


meant to be (not like this)

by ang3lba3, Mellomailbox



Series: Soulmates [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Betrayal, Didn't tag MCD cause Yue dies in canon, Falling In Love, Idiots in Love, Imprisonment, Jealousy, Multi, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:40:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25257067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ang3lba3/pseuds/ang3lba3, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mellomailbox/pseuds/Mellomailbox
Summary: Canon divergence where Zuko is born with three soulmarks on his collarbone: two Water Tribe runes, and one obscure Earth Kingdom dialect. He knows out in the world are the other parts of his soul, and that if he ever wants a chance to be with them, he needs to end the war. To do that, he needs to become Firelord. And to do that, he needs to capture the Avatar and restore his honor.His soulmates have a different opinion. When it becomes clear that restoring his honor isn't an option, Zuko decides to dedicate himself to the only thing left that matters: hanging out with his soulmates until his dad kills all of them. But have they been on opposite sides for too long?
Relationships: Azula/Mai/Ty Lee, Background Katara/Aang/Toph, Mai/Ty Lee (Avatar), Minor or Background Relationship(s), Sokka/Suki (Avatar), Sokka/Suki/Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Yue (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), sokka/suki/yue/zuko
Series: Soulmates [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1829827
Comments: 52
Kudos: 434





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: 
> 
> This is a stretched timeline where we take the events of ATLA and span it over 3 years instead of 1. By the beginning of the fic Sokka is 17 and Zuko and Suki are 18. Yue died at 16. 
> 
> Additionally, this is a soulmate AU. The mechanics will be explained in-verse, but the gist is that the convergence starts around the episode Zuko Alone and veers off from there.

_They have him cornered. The surrounding buildings are set ablaze, consequence of an over-eager crew of firebenders, and the roof to the building they’re in has just ignited. Zuko can feel it in his lungs, and when he breathes the fire spreads._

_He’s in some sort of training building, the floor a slick, dark wood with large open windows to let in the natural light. There are ceremonial weapons hanging on the walls, a large tapestry hanging at the head of the room._

_Avatar Kyoshi addresses her islanders at sunset. Zuko’s seen the portrait before, in historical scrolls back home. Treasonous scrolls, but permitted for the royal family. When your family legacy is hunting the Avatar, any knowledge that can make you more dangerous is supported. Any dangerous action is encouraged._

_Even burning down an entire village._

The heat keeps getting to him, forcing his thoughts to become daydreams and his daydreams to become memories. Zuko grew up in the Fire Nation. Heat doesn’t typically affect him, and until his banishment he’d never seen snow.

The Earth Kingdom desert is an entirely different experience.

He keeps thinking he’s back on Kyoshi Island, the rush of blood in his ears so similar to the roar of the fire. That he’s barely conscious isn’t helping.

The older men of his crew, the ones who served during the siege of Ba Sing Se, would tell him he’s war fatigued. Zuko knows he’s better than that, though, that he’s _stronger._ It’s not war fatigue, it’s lack of food and water. He should have stolen the dinner from that travelling couple. He’s sure that they had more food on them, they certainly wouldn’t be foolish enough not to.

The only one _foolish_ enough for that is Zuko.

He barely makes it into the next town. Making it off his ostrich horse is easier, even though he has to cling to her saddle in order to remain standing. His legs wobble beneath him, and the world wobbles in front of his eyes.

A Kyoshi Warrior dives through a building’s window and into the street, glass shattering, flames licking at her heels. He blinks, rubbing his eyes, and the image disappears.

Water.

There’s a man in the booth. The sign above him says— something, Zuko can’t read it, eyes too blurry.

“Water,” he croaks, and puts his last coins down. “And food.”

“Not enough here for both,” the guy says, pushing the two Fire Nation coins away and taking the Earth Kingdom one. “Not this close to Ba Sing Se.”

Zuko pockets the Fire Nation coins. Exchanges a look with the ostrich horse.

“Water,” he says. “And something for her, if you can.”

The man nods, eyeing Zuko for a long moment. He seems satisfied with what he sees, because he pulls a key out from under the table and passes it over.

“It’s a hard life in the colonies. My wife immigrated from there,” he says, kind and understanding. “This’ll unlock the gate, there’s a water pump ‘round back and a bucket. Don’t let nobody at it for free, understand?”

Zuko takes the key with shaking fingers. It’s less than what he asked for, but more than he was expecting. He nods, used to the assumption regarding his heritage. It doesn’t even grate, anymore.

“Thank you,” Zuko says, clucking his tongue for the Ostrich-Horse to follow.

“And don’t let that boy give you any feed!” the man calls after him. Zuko raises a hand in acknowledgement.

He’s not about to turn down any food, but he doesn’t say it, guiding his ostrich-horse around the bend and unlocking the gate. It takes a few tries, hands trembling and vision swimming. When he looks past the brim of his straw hat it’s to wide, startled blue eyes.

_“I’m not leaving you with him!” Sokka yells to Suki. They’re both wearing Kyoshi Warrior armor, and if it wasn’t for their-- connection-- Zuko wouldn’t have even recognized it._

_“Get out of here, dumbass!” she shouts back, dodging a fire blast. “He’s not going to hurt me!”_

_“You’re wrong,” Zuko snarls, and sends another blast of fire in her direction. She laughs at him, disbelievingly, and Zuko gets so angry he lets his guard down. It’s only for a second, but she fists his ponytail in her hand, slamming him face first into a nearby building. “THAT’S NOT A HANDLE!”_

_Suki doesn’t even acknowledge him, binding his hands together with swift movements. Zuko kicks backwards at her, and when that fails, firebends blindly upwards. She stumbles back with a shriek._

_He knows the movements to send a jet of flame directly at her. It’s simple, a basic step even with his hands bound, and yet when he goes to follow through his arms lose their strength and he can’t ignite._

_“WHAT?” Zuko snarls, enraged, and tries again. It sputters out on his palm, pathetic. “What did you do to me with that rope?”_

_“Little advice from one Warrior to another,” Suki says, breathless from the fight, “Wear higher collars.”_

_“Collars—” Zuko asks, confused, right before the world goes dark._

“Zuko! Fire idiot!” a voice says. Something’s. Slapping him.

He’s on the ground, and his ostrich-horse is talking to him. No, that’s not right. Animals don’t talk.

And they don’t _slap_ , either.

“Stop,” Zuko says, catching the wrist of his assailant without opening his eyes. He doesn’t think he could even if he wants to.

“Stop dying in front of me!” the voice is near hysterical.

“Water,” Zuko rasps, lip splitting open with the effort. His head aches, and his joints ache, and he thinks he fell down. The hand jerks out of his grip, and the soft thing under his head tugs away at the same time, knocking him into the ground. Zuko grunts as he hits, eyes shocked open.

“This is some kind of horrible, cosmic irony,” Sokka is saying, muscles working under his tank top as he pumps water. “One soulmate dies and turns into the _moon,_ the other tries to die of dehydration _right on top of me,_ Suki! Doesn’t! Have to deal with!”

He stomps over, bucket sloshing over. He cups his hands, dips them in the bucket, tilts them to Zuko’s lips.

“You’d think helping the Avatar would grant me a little bit of karmic leeway, but noooo,” Sokka continues, getting impatient and dropping the rest of the water down the front of Zuko’s neck when he doesn’t drink fast enough. Zuko would be annoyed, but it actually feels really nice.

“Are you happy now, spirits?!” Sokka demands of the sky. “I think you’re real! Real _bullshit!”_

Zuko’s eyes have fallen shut again, and he hears a door open but doesn’t ready himself for any sort of defense. Let the spirits kill him here. He’s _tired._

“You causin’ trouble?” The same old man asks, presumably to Sokka.

“He came back here and _immediately_ fainted,” Sokka says, voice disgusted. More water is pressed to Zuko’s lips. With an enormous effort, Zuko swallows.

“I’ll add his jook to your tab,” the man agrees. Sokka doesn’t argue, but adds, “some feed for the ostrich-horse too.” Then he dumps a cup full of water over Zuko’s head.

“Katara’s gonna hate this,” Sokka mutters. He smacks at Zuko’s face some more, and grabs his jaw to shake it when Zuko doesn’t open his eyes.

“Do you mind,” Zuko says, rather mildly in his opinion. “I’m trying to die, here.”

“You and me both know that your death is gonna be way more dramatic than this,” Sokka says, shoving underneath Zuko’s arm and grunting to stand. “You _reek._ ”

“It’s the poverty,” Zuko mumbles, swaying enough to almost bring them both right back down. It’s more nauseating with his eyes closed, so he opens them.

“Justice,” Sokka says. “Thanks for the pack horse, I’m gonna need it for the supplies. What’s her name?” He’s dragging Zuko towards his ostrich-horse where she’s got her head fully submerged in a bucket of water.

“You’re not stealing my,” Zuko slams face first into the saddle, severely misjudging the distance. The ostrich-horse stomps on his feet without lifting her head, used to this routine. “Lee!”

“Lee is a dumb name for an ostrich-horse. I was thinking Mister Cluckers,” Sokka says, grabbing Zuko’s thigh and shoving him onto the saddle.

“How is Mister Cluckers a better name for a female ostrich-horse than _Lee?”_ Zuko asks, arms out for balance as he sways. “Neither of us got the naming part of the soul, just admit it.”

Sokka pauses, eyeing him and Lee. “I could tie you to the saddle and let her drag you,” he considers, something painful crossing his face and then folding away.

“Or you could leave me alone,” Zuko snaps. He finally settles enough to let his arms fall, gripping at the reins. “What’s the plan here, huh?”

“None of your business,” Sokka says, “do you want a gag instead? I’ve got supplies to gather and an ungrateful dickhead to save.”

“You can’t seriously think your _friends_ will be okay with you— anything with me,” Zuko says, tightly. “I’m conscious. I’m not going to die. You’ve done more than enough.”

Sokka snaps his fingers. “Ah-ha! War prisoner!”

“I’m not part of a _war_ anymore,” Zuko says.

“Lie, lie, lie,” Sokka says, opening and closing his hand in a talking gesture. He takes Lee’s reigns from Zuko and leads her around the front, passing over a handful of Earth Kingdom and Water Tribe coins. He notices that the merchant accepts the Water Tribe currency without comment, pushing over a large stack of sacks and boxes.

Zuko watches him, letting it happen. He’s too tired to argue, and he can’t _not_ trust Sokka. That takes energy he doesn’t have.

There’s no way that Sokka’s missed the wanted posters, or the fact that Zuko’s alone and starving with his topknot shaved off, or the way they conspicuously haven’t been attacked by him in weeks.

But he’s probably still upset about Yue, if he’s saying _war prisoner._ Zuko lets his eyes slide closed, body falling in with the familiar rhythm of Lee’s steps.

Sokka can’t kill him for what happened to her. But his sister can, or the Avatar. Maybe that’s what this is about. Either way, he’s getting a nap while he can.

***

Sokka’s got a stack of the wanted posters in his pack. There are some with current drawings, Zuko without his phoenix tail, and ones that depict him the way Sokka last saw him at the North Pole; righteous and desperate and _wrong._

They say that he’s wanted for treason.

Sokka doesn’t believe it. If anything, Zhao is just angry that Zuko tried to take Aang himself and is retaliating. Nobody knows why Zuko was sent after them, but they know that he _never_ gives up.

Yue died from that conviction. Sokka’s not about to fall victim to it, too.

Zuko looks harmless now, half dead and skeletal, face chapped and asleep on his ostrich-horse. But it’s a ploy. It’s a tricky clever Fire Nation ploy. And even if it’s not, the moment that he’s strong enough, he’ll attack. He always does.

And Zuko’s a good fighter. He’s stronger than most _adults_ they’ve faced despite only being a teenager, and beyond that, he’s relentless. He doesn’t give up, no matter how much you hurt him. He doesn’t give up, even if it means hurting his soulmates, something that— it should be _impossible._ Sokka had seen him collapse, and he hadn’t even thought, had just cared for him. Even now, it’s an active battle to not fix him.

He needs Katara. He needs Aang. He needs impartiality, because he doesn’t _have_ that.

“Meathead’s found a snack,” Toph says cheerfully from her rock tent.

And there’s impartiality, right on time.

“Toph, I need you to cuff him,” Sokka says. He lets the ostrich horse stroll to a gentle stop. On top of her, Zuko snores.

“That’s forward, even for you, ice for brains.” She rolls out of her tent and saunters over to them, likely getting a feel for Zuko and Lee. “What’d he do, steal our money?”

“SOKKA!” Katara yells, and Toph makes a face and shoves a pinky in her ear.

“No,” Sokka says, face grim as he jerks Zuko off the ostrich-horse. Zuko snorts himself awake, head jerking upright, chin covered in a thin line of drool. “He tried to kill Aang.”

Katara skids to a stop in front of them, immediately shooting ice around his wrists, cuffing them together. She keeps a thin whip in her hands and eyes him warily, stance defensive. Toph shrugs.

Zuko leans more heavily against Sokka, brings the cuffs to his mouth. Slowly, eyes warily on Katara, he licks them.

“Don’t try to escape!” Katara yells.

“Too hot,” Zuko says, and keeps licking the ice cuffs. That’s Katara’s bending water. That’s been _in_ people.

“He’s heat sick, Katara,” Sokka says, and tries to lean away from Zuko a little. The water still smells like _swampbender._

“What’s he doing here?” Katara asks, wrinkling her nose. “Where’s his uncle? And his soldiers?”

“I’m sure you’ll tell me if it’s important,” Toph adds, and Sokka looks around for Aang. “He went flying with Momo to find fruits or something.” Toph makes a circle next to her temple with her finger.

“It’s probably a trap,” Sokka says. Katara tries to talk over him, but he talks louder. “BUT! It’s the best chance we have to question him. And I couldn’t— he’s _sick,_ Katara.”

“Someone needs to get Aang,” Katara says, “before Zuko’s men capture him.”

“Do you _have_ to?” Zuko complains, slurping at his cuffs. “He fucking sucks. I hate that kid.”

Sokka has to physically restrain Katara while Toph laughs loudly, hand on her chest and head tipped back. Sometimes it sucks being the plan guy.

“Tired of getting your ass kicked,” Katara mumbles, but recognizes that between herself and Toph she should be the one to fly around on Appa. She grabs Toph and pulls her aside, probably to make her promise murder or something should Zuko sneeze funny.

Zuko sits on the ground, leaning his head against Lee’s legs. Lee moves away. He scoots closer to her. She allows it, but begins pecking at his cuffs for payment.

“C’mon,” Sokka says, gripping Zuko’s arm. It’s bare, skin on skin, and he sucks in a startled breath as a spark physically jumps between them.

Zuko jerks his arm out of Sokka’s grip, falling backwards into Lee. Lee skitters out of the way, crowing loudly in protest.

“Don’t do that,” he says, looking shaken.

Katara and Toph are still muttering to each other. Good. Sokka hasn’t told them, doesn’t _want_ to tell them. Katara knew about Yue and that was hard enough.

“Sorry. I forgot you like your soulmates dead,” Sokka hisses, defensive, and shakes out his hand. “C’mon, we gotta get you out of the sun.”

Zuko stumbles to his feet, eyes narrowed, lips thin. He doesn’t say anything, and when Sokka catches his shirt, he doesn’t shake him off.

Sokka leads him to a Water Tribe tent, opening the flap and gesturing for Zuko to climb down. It’s his tent, and he follows after Zuko, shoving his box of drawings and his small collection of bone knives out of reach of Zuko’s sticky fingers.

“Rest up. We set out at night, and when we’re sure we’re not being followed we’ll stop to interrogate you.”

“I can’t sleep during the day,” Zuko says, settling on the bedroll with his iced hands resting on his chest. “But thanks for the consideration, _soulmate._ I always enjoy being well rested before torture.”

Sokka rolls his eyes even as the false endearment stings, a fine knife of reality between the ribs of desire. “You were sleeping just now. And we don’t _torture_ , we’re not _Fire Nation._ ”

“Yeah,” Zuko says, closing his eyes. Despite his protests, he’s clearly already falling asleep. “Neither am I, anymore.”

***

_Shore leave sucks._

_But the men need it. Their morale is shit, and so Zuko takes them to shore for supplies. They camp outside of a small town, and Zuko sits watch for the night after they’ve drank themselves into a deep stupor, laughing at losing their land legs so soon after regaining them._

_Zuko stares out into the woods, tapping his fingers together as he tries to stay awake. It’s been a long day, and he’s_ tired.

_Mid yawn, he opens his eyes to see Sokka staring at him from the treeline._

_“Oh, Spirits,” Sokka says, and one of his men snorts where he’s fallen asleep out of his bedroll. Sokka freezes mid-step._

_Zuko points desperately at the woods behind him, and then makes a dramatic tippy-toe motion with two fingers._

_Sokka looks at him like a two headed viper-rat and spins, rushing away into the brush. Before Zuko knows what he’s doing he leaps to his feet to follow, hopping deftly over the sleeping mounds of drunk sailors and slipping between the trees._

_When they’re out of earshot, he says, “What were you doing?!”_

_Sokka shrieks, jumping half out of his skin, and tries to climb a tree. It’s...mildly successful._

_“Get down from there,” Zuko says tiredly. He’s been itching to get another look at him, buzzing since he’d seen him that first time, that first real time, Sokka cornering him in the woods shortly after leaving the South Pole with the Avatar._

_“I’m not going to hurt you. You’re my_ soulmate.” _He has so much he needs to say to him, betrayal and hope an acidic cocktail inside of him._

_“You’ve been trying to hurt me!” Sokka hisses back, but gravity is besting him and he stumbles to the ground, during to face Zuko wearily. Zuko’s immediately taken with how pretty Sokka is, eyes bright in the moonlight, lips plush where he wets them nervously._

_“I’ve been trying not to hurt you,” Zuko says, palms up in surrender. “I just— can we talk? We haven’t really had a chance to.”_

_Sokka’s breathing quickly, nervous, and Zuko sees his hand twitch towards his club. He doesn’t grab it, just nods once, and doesn’t even back away when Zuko approaches._

_“I want to end the war,” Zuko says, bluntly. It’s how he’d always wanted to start a conversation with his soulmates, if he got the chance. Because he knew that they wouldn’t listen to anything else, once he was old enough to really understand what the war had_ done _to the Water Tribes. “I have a plan, but I need the Avatar to do it.”_

_“No way!” Sokka yells, and they both flinch and look towards the darkness behind Zuko. Nobody wakes and comes rushing to Zuko’s defense, so he relaxes and turns back to Sokka._

_“Listen,” Zuko says, hands still up, more desperately this time. “I’m the Crown Prince. Or, I was. If I can reverse my banishment, I’ll be Firelord someday. And the only way to do that is to bring the Avatar—”_

_“Aang is going to stop the Firelord, and he’s going to save the world from YOUR war,” Sokka snarls, moving to poke Zuko angrily in his chest. He’s not wearing his armor, and sparks dart from his fingers where they twitch in front of him._

_“He’s a_ twelve year old!” _Zuko snaps. His hands curl into fists, but he keeps them raised, trying to keep his temper as well. “What’s happened— what’s happening— I can’t stop it yet. But I_ could, _and we’re soulmates, this must be_ why—”

_Sokka makes an anguished noise and grabs Zuko’s shoulders. He thinks that Sokka’s about to deck him, lets himself relax outside of his defensive stance in order to protect Sokka from accidentally getting hurt, but no pain comes._

_Instead it’s warm lips shoved hard against his, slick and desperate as Sokka shoves Zuko back against a tree trunk. Zuko goes, grunting in surprise, rough bark scraping at the skin of his back where his shirt rides up. He’s never kissed anyone, and he’s pretty sure that Sokka hasn’t either— there’s a lot more teeth? And spit? Than he’d expected._

_It’s not. Bad. Though. It’s definitely not_ bad.

_Sokka pulls back too soon. Zuko’s just barely started to get a feel for kissing him, has just started to reciprocate. Sokka’s hands are on his neck. They’re big and cold, and when a finger brushes the edge of Zuko’s scar he shudders but doesn’t pull away._

_“I was not expecting you to actually like that plan that much,” Zuko says, half laughing. He relaxes, for what feels like the first time in years. For what_ is _the first time in years. It’s going to be okay._

_“I’m never going to betray Aang to the Fire Nation,” Sokka rasps. He steps away, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You’re on the wrong side of things, Zuko.”_

_Zuko tenses so hard and so suddenly a muscle in his back twinges._

_“Then what the fuck was that?” he demands._

_“I don’t know!” Sokka yells back just as defensively, hands in the air. “Instinct? An offer? You can always come with us, you know.”_

_Zuko swallows, trying to hide the hurt on his face. “You’re going to lose. I don’t care if he’s the Avatar. The Firelord is my father. You have no idea what he’ll do to you.”_

_“Then I guess this is it,” Sokka shrugs, eyeing Zuko where he’s unarmored and weaponless. “Truce, for tonight?”_

_Zuko wipes his mouth, trying to get rid of the tingling remainder of sensation. It takes him a moment, mouth working uselessly. “Yeah. For tonight.”_

_Sokka steps towards him, something on his face that Zuko refuses to see. Zuko snarls and shoves him back, hands on his chest, and Sokka stumbles back into a tree._

_“You can kill yourself,” Zuko says, voice shaking. “But you can’t make me care about you first. That’s not how this works.”_

_“Fine,” Sokka says, and disappears into the darkness without looking back. A few moments later he can just make out the shouts of Sokka waking his camp._

_Zuko crumples to the ground, puts his head in his hands._ Fuck, _he thinks, and then slams a fist back into a tree._

_“FUCK!” he yells._

***

Zuko’s really fucking cute when he sleeps. Sokka would have assumed that he’d have a natural scowl on his face at all times, maybe even firebend out of evil instinct.

Instead he curls into himself, a small ball, and tucks a fist under his chin. He snores a little and drools, and it’s equally gross and endearing.

It’s normal.

Sokka reaches out to brush his palm over the crown of Zuko’s head, wondering what the fuzz feels like from his haircut. Zuko shifts in his sleep, mumbling, and Sokka snatches his hand back. But not before Zuko tries to press his head further into it, rolling in his sleep to grab at empty air.

“It’s your fault Yue is dead,” Sokka says quietly. He’s trying to remind himself of the stakes even as the stupid soulmate magic rips any sort of self preservation instinct away from him.

There’s something _wrong_ with Zuko. He’s been warped by the Fire Nation, so utterly that he can hurt the other parts of his soul. Sokka’s heard the horror stories, soulmates gone mad, lashing out at themselves and others. Zuko doesn’t look like a horror story.

That’s the scariest part.

“Let’s go,” Katara says, and Sokka looks up at her. He’s sitting a normal distance away, hands to himself, and he controls the defensiveness he feels rising at her gaze. She doesn’t know.

“I’ll tear down the tent if you can get him onto Appa. I don’t like this,” she says again, but she’s still eyeing Zuko strangely, like she sees something that Sokka doesn’t.

“It’s too easy,” Sokka agrees. And it is too easy, to scoop Zuko up in his arms.

Katara makes a face like she’s about to say something, then closes her mouth. Moves to hold the tent flap open for them, as Sokka walks through.

Zuko shifts in his arms but doesn’t wake, nosing against Sokka’s neck. Sokka can feel himself blushing, glad for the weak moonlight to hide it. Still, he shifts his grip, pulling Zuko closer and tucking his face more firmly against the side of his neck.

Aang’s already on Appa, and he gives Sokka a boost of air when he’s standing there trying to figure out how to climb up.

“Lee’s coming, right?” Aang asks, already petting the ostrich-horse where she’s hunched nervously on the saddle. Her eyes are huge, the whites showing, and she makes a weak sound of protest before burying her face in Aang’s lap. Momo chatters angrily at her from Aang’s shoulder.

“Can’t be worse than him,” Sokka says, and dumps Zuko out of his arms. Tries to dump. Zuko clings to him in his sleep, and where his knuckles brush against the bare skin of Sokka’s collarbone a spark lights the night.

“Sokka—” Aang says, face sympathetic.

“Don’t,” Sokka warns. He pries Zuko off.

Zuko wakes as soon as they break contact.

“Wuh,” he asks, yawning, face softened by sleep and moonlight. “Where?”

Aang waves awkwardly at him, one hand still petting Lee’s head. “Hello, hotman. You’re not still trying to capture me, right?”

Zuko stares at him in mute horror, before Sokka realizes that he’s actually staring at Lee.

“You’re not still trying to capture Aang, _right?”_ Sokka prods.

“I can’t believe he fucking stole my ostrich-horse,” Zuko says, and flops onto his back, crossing his arms as he glares at the sky.

“Get used to it. He’s got a weird airbender-y way with animals,” Sokka says, patting his leg sympathetically.

“I’m not doing your non-torture interrogation twice,” Zuko says, and stretches his legs. His ankles pop alarmingly. The stretch puts Sokka’s hand flirtatiously high on his thigh, and Sokka pulls it back. “Ask me things when everyone’s here. Do I get food after I cooperate, now, or not at all?”

“We don’t know if you’ll get airsick,” Sokka says, hating himself for caring about Zuko enough to consider it.

“Vomiting’s a personal problem, and personally, I want food,” Zuko says, and tilts his head to stare at Sokka pleadingly. His cheekbones are stark in his face.

“You’re not in a position to make demands,” Katara says where she’s popping over the side of the saddle. Sokka feels relief, catching the bundled tent when Katara tosses it up, because that look that Zuko just gave him melted him from the inside.

“What about to bargain?” Zuko says, immediately moving to a sitting position. His spine is straight, hands settled in his lap. He’s about half a foot too close to Sokka for comfort, legs brushing. “I’ll cooperate with anything for food.”

“Hah,” Toph says, “You and Sokka will get along great.”

The silence only feels awkward because of the secret only three of them know. Still, Sokka flinches.

“I doubt it,” Zuko mutters, venomously. He still hasn’t moved away from where his leg is pressed against Sokka. Is moving closer, actually. Like he’s subconsciously seeking comfort.

“Hold on,” Sokka says, and steadies Zuko with a hand at his wrist and the small of his back when Appa takes off, shaking them all. Toph is the only one other than Zuko who gets jostled, the rest of them used to it. Katara eyes Sokka suspiciously.

Zuko’s face goes whiter than usual, but he doesn’t grab at his stomach, or turn green.

“Fear of heights?” Katara jeers.

“YES,” Toph answers, clinging to Lee who’s also hunkered down in fear.

“I’ve been higher,” Zuko lies, blatantly. His hands are trembling in his lap, and he folds them up in the hem of his shirt to hide them, pulling his wrist from Sokka’s grip.

“You’ll like where we’re going, then!” Aang calls back. Momo soars next to them, chittering cheerfully.

“Oh, goody,” Toph says, pressing her face into the saddle.

Slowly, Sokka begins to let go, confident that Zuko’s not going to fall over. Before he can remove his hands completely Zuko grabs for his wrist, hiding where he’s clutching to Sokka with trembling hands between their bodies, out of sight of the others.

He doesn’t turn to look at him, jaw set and eyes trained forward. Sokka can feel each shudder as it passes through Zuko’s body, though, and before he can help himself he threads their fingers together and squeezes.

“You have questions, and food,” Zuko says, smoothly. He addresses Katara. “I have answers, and I’m hungry. Can we work something mutually beneficial out?”

“What if you answer my questions, and if I like them, I don’t throw you off Appa?” Katara challenges. Zuko’s fingers convulse on Sokka’s, painfully tight.

“You drive a hard bargain,” Zuko says. He swallows. “What are your questions?”

“Why are you here? What are you planning? Why did the Fire Nation declare you a traitor? What’s the trick?” Katara demands.

Zuko pauses for a moment. Sokka can practically hear the slow grind of his brain.

“Ah,” Zuko says. “Right. Um—” he glances at Sokka. “Well. Your brother kidnapped me. I’m planning to survive this interaction. The Fire Nation declared me a traitor because your names were publicized. The trick is I... want food?”

“Our names?” Katara asks. Sokka’s eyes widen, and he opens his mouth to try and deflect, but it’s too late.

“Yeah,” Zuko says, and pulls his collar open with the hand that isn’t holding Sokka’s. “I’m not ever going to be Crown Prince again, now. So. Fuck it. Right? I’ll just follow Sokka around until I die, I guess.”


	2. Chapter 2

The air explodes in screams. Katara, screaming words. Toph screaming in laughter. Aang, screaming for everyone to _please_ calm down he’s _steering_ and Appa doesn’t like yelling. Lee, screaming to scream. Momo, screaming to be louder than Lee. 

“You didn’t _tell_ them?!” Zuko yells at Sokka, wrenching his hand out of his grasp.

Sokka throws his hands up in the air angrily. “What was I supposed to say! Haha guys, by the way the asshole who keeps trying to capture and or kill us is my soulmate! Don’t worry, he only tried to get me to betray you _once_!”

“IT’S IMPORTANT TACTICAL INFORMATION!” Zuko explodes. “I can’t hurt you!” 

“YOU MET WITH HIM IN SECRET?!” Katara shrieks, making little grasping motions in the air like she’s imagining strangling Sokka. Her braid whips around dangerously, and Zuko notices that they’re starting to rapidly descend. 

“Yeah, _and_ he made out with me,” Zuko snaps. 

“ZUKO,” Sokka yells desperately, covering his face with his hands. 

“Oh, sorry, is that _shameful_ for you?” Zuko asks. He’s being vindictive and it’s satisfying, but it also _hurts._ Even now, even still.

Fuck Sokka. He led Zuko on. He let Zuko believe that they had— that they were going to— and then he just— 

“What? Now your friends know that seduction doesn’t work, on either side of this,” Zuko says, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. “Tactics, Sokka. Seriously.” 

“Sokka didn’t try to SEDUCE you!” Katara yells. She staggers to her feet, the wind buffeting her as she moves forward. “Take that back! He would never— with a Fire Nation— hurt _Aang—”_

“Katara!” Sokka shouts, catching her by the hem of her skirt and yanking her back down before she tumbles over the edge. Toph’s still cackling madly, gripping the side of the saddle. 

“So do you have more questions, or can I have food now?” Zuko asks, leaning back against the saddle.

Aang pulls Appa down into a landing just as Katara throws Zuko off. 

He hits the ground _hard,_ even when he rolls with it. The rush of terror sends his head reeling, fire in his palms and heart in his throat. He can’t believe she actually threw him off. He can’t believe that Aang knew it was coming, landing Appa to prepare for it.

Zuko staggers to his feet, taking a defensive stance. 

“LA AND TUI,” Katara shrieks, jumping off of Appa’s saddle, face pale. Her eyes are wide as saucers and when she hits the ground she holds her palms out, placating. “I don’t know what came over me-- I didn’t mean to actually--” 

“Murderous intent!” Zuko yells, fire flaring in his palms. “MURDEROUS INTENT CAME OVER YOU, YOU HORRID LITTLE BEAST!” 

Anger flashes across Katara’s face, and regret, and Aang comes up behind her to grab her wrist and tug at it. He’s looking worried, too, his typically cheerful smile gone and replaced with one of panic. 

“Katara,” he says, and Toph storms over to her and grips her other wrist, dragging her and Aang away and into the trees. 

“You and I need to have a conversation, sugar queen,” Toph says angrily. 

“But--we can’t leave--Zuko--” She stammers, and Aang puts his hands on her back and shoves her along when she tries to turn around. 

“Sokka can handle it. You need to take a nice, calming walk, okay? And then we’ll have a nice, _calming_ talk with Toph.”

Sokka slides down off Appa. As soon as he’s in range of Zuko’s fire, it stutters out like it was never even there.

“Hey,” Zuko says, shaky and empty as the adrenaline leaves his system. 

“I wasn’t trying to seduce you,” Sokka says. He’s moving his arms weirdly, like he doesn’t know what to do with them. Eventually he presses his palms together in front of himself and rubs them anxiously, watching Zuko. 

Zuko makes a disgusted face at him. 

“I know you weren’t trying to seduce me,” he says. “If you were trying to seduce me, you would have been smarter about it. And it might have _worked._ ”

Sokka just looks guiltier, not meeting Zuko’s gaze. Coward. 

It’s weirdly painful to see him so upset, now that the anger is receding into exhaustion and hunger. Zuko just...doesn’t have the stomach for this.

“What was all that? Normally I can guess why you do things,” and Sokka gestures to Appa, meant to encompass the months of cat and mouse, “but that whole--thing? That was chaos. And _stupid._ ” 

“You’re rubbing off on me,” Zuko says, crossing his arms. And he’s hungry, and tired, and sick of doing the _smart_ thing. Doing the smart thing has gotten him _nothing._ He’s just— running on empty, running on instinct.

Apparently his instincts lead to him being almost killed. 

Sokka takes a step forward and pauses. When Zuko doesn’t react he takes another, until they’re less combat distance and more conversational. “You have to apologize to Katara. She shouldn’t have-- I think that’s the first time Aang’s seen her temper, honestly-- but what you called her, that wasn’t okay.” 

Zuko doesn’t even remember what he called her, honestly. Something rude, definitely. Everything is a rush of rage and fear.

He wants to argue, just to be contrary, but Sokka’s— his body language is open and pleading and _nice._

“She has to say sorry for trying to kill me,” Zuko says. 

Sokka wipes his eyes and Zuko recognizes the exhaustion in the movement, in the line of his jaw and the way he takes a deep, shaking breath. “I’m worried about her,” Sokka admits. “I try to-- nevermind. I’ll talk to her. That sort of thing can’t happen, it’s not… it’s not like her.” 

“Wait,” Zuko says, and unfolds his arms. He shoves his hands in his pockets instead, staring at the ground. “I’m just. Hungry. I’m not _happy_. But I’m— hungry. And I’m older than her, I should act like it. She’s… important to you. I’ll try to do better.”

Sokka looks at him like he’s grown a second head. 

“Why are you here?” 

Zuko shrugs. He’d already said it, but maybe Sokka hadn’t really— registered it, over all the chaos. “I don’t have anything left but you and Suki.”

Sokka turns so abruptly Zuko wonders if he’s upset him. Well, that’s fine. That’s for Sokka to deal with. But Sokka moves to Appa’s saddlebags and pulls out a package, and before he’s even passed it to Zuko he can smell the spices and knows that it’s food. 

“You hate us,” Sokka says, offering the smoked fish to him. He pulls his water flask off of his hip, and Zuko swallows down the irrational emotion that surges at the most basic of kindnesses. 

He’s just hungry. Very hungry, and very tired. 

Zuko takes it. “I know I’m not exactly the picture of good self esteem,” he half jokes, “But I don’t think I can hate you two. You’re… part of me.”

There’s more he wants to say, to try and explain. He doesn’t really trust Sokka with that much yet, though. And he doesn’t think that Sokka can trust him enough to believe it. 

Sokka doesn’t respond in kind. It’s for the best, because Zuko’s not sure how he would have reacted. 

“You hate them,” Sokka says instead. 

Zuko shrugs. He’s not about to dispute _that._ Aang directly represents the loss of so much, the impossibility of ever going home. And beyond that, he’s an annoying snot nosed kid who beat the shit out of Zuko more than once. Effortlessly. 

“You don’t,” Zuko says, an offered compromise. 

“Exactly,” Sokka agrees, and Zuko knows they’ve both missed each others’ point. “I don’t believe in this spirit mumbo jumbo nonsense. Sure, you’re my soulmate, and there are certain things I can’t dispute with that. But we can make our own choices, and if you decide to betray us or hurt my family, my _name_ isn’t going to do anything to stop that.”

Zuko has to take a deep breath, too angry to think for a moment. 

“What part of I’m never going home don’t you understand?” he asks. “My soulmates have been actively and publicly aiding the Avatar. For years. I’ve been disowned and declared a traitor. Even if I killed Aang, they’d never take me back.”

“You’d go back if you could,” Sokka points out. 

Zuko takes a deep sip of water. It’s a trick that Iroh had taught him— you can’t talk if there’s something already in your mouth, and afterwards, you might say something smarter.

“Fuck you,” Zuko says.

Shit.

Sokka has the audacity to look hurt. 

“I don’t know what the smart play here is,” Sokka says, probably his own compromise. “This is bigger than us and Suki, and -- and Yue, even.” He pauses, looking down. “Well, maybe not her. Her sacrifice was pretty big.” 

“Don’t look at me,” Zuko says. Lee is squawking up on top of Appa for someone to help her come down. He ignores her. “I make terrible decisions. Constantly. You figure it out and get back to me, and I’ll try harder not to make anyone so mad they kill me.”

“Yeah,” Sokka sighs, “I am the plan guy.” He offers Zuko some more food. 

Zuko takes it, letting his shoulders relax a little as he tears into it. He feels less angry than he has in weeks, and more clearheaded. 

“For what it’s worth,” Sokka’s saying, rubbing at the back of his head, “I wish things were different.” 

“Not worth much,” Zuko says, thinking of all the times he’s wished that throughout his life. All the plans he made, to make things different. How poorly they played out, how easily they fell apart at reality. “But yeah. Me too.”

“Let me know when you want to stop supporting the Fire Nation,” Sokka adds. 

“I’m not supporting anyone,” Zuko says. 

“You would if you could,” Sokka argues, “that’s my point. This isn’t you choosing us, it’s you being out of other options.” 

Zuko rubs at his forehead. Sokka’s not wrong, entirely. But that’s not it, exactly.

“I do have other options,” Zuko says. “There’s always other options. I’m just… out of ones I’m willing to take. My father— my sister— I can’t do it anymore. It doesn’t matter. I’m never going to be able to help the Fire Nation, not if I work with them. But I’m not going to work _against_ my country, either, and I’m not going to kill my family. So. Here I am.”

Sokka bows dramatically. “Glad to be the bottom of the barrel,” he says sarcastically. “If I go comfort my sister you’re not gonna take off with Appa, right?” 

“I am never getting back on that thing,” Zuko swears. Lee squawks louder. Appa rumbles in discontent, and Zuko pats him absently until he settles down.

Sokk’a looking at him strangely again, but he doesn’t say anything, instead disappearing into the treeline. 

Zuko wants to sleep. 

“So you can fly, huh?” he asks Appa. Appa rumbles. “Neat. Wish I could fly.”

***

Sokka hates this. He hates all of it, and he hates hating. He does his best to act as carefree as possible, for Katara. Their dad had been so lighthearted, when they were young, always goofing off with them and Bato and their mom. When grief had crushed him into something smaller, Sokka had tried to make himself bigger in all the ways he remembered him. He supports the group subtly, never asking for recognition, always playing goofs to cover for when he truly takes charge to guide them when they need it. 

And he’s not perfect. He knows he’s only a few years older than them, and they’re all so much more powerful than him. But the war is tearing Katara apart, has been since they lost their mom. Sokka’s done his best to hold the pieces together, and even now, being right in the middle of it, Aang and Toph are helping. There’s a catharsis to being allowed to take action, but it’s also violent. 

Katara’s always had a temper, and so apparently has Aang. Toph’s got an iron grip on hers, thank the spirits, and he hopes that she can help them with it where he can’t. Where Jet _won’t._

He just— he doesn’t know _how._ There’s no one he can ask, no one he can lean on. Suki is a thousand miles away, or more. Zuko is untrustworthy, even when he isn’t actively making things worse. And he’s actively making _everything_ worse, every breath he takes.

Yue is-- he doesn’t think about Yue, the pain too raw, will probably always be that way. When she died, he knew immediately. It felt like losing a limb. Suki had never met her, didn’t feel it the same way. Zuko— Sokka doesn’t know, about Zuko. He doesn’t _want_ to know. 

He finds Katara crying by a small pond. She found water, of course she did. It’s always comforted her. Now, Aang and Toph comfort her too, each taking a side, each with a hand on her shoulder as she weeps into her hands. 

“I never want to feel like that,” she’s saying. Sokka makes enough noise to alert Aang, even if Toph’s surely already noticed him. 

“He was asking for it,” Toph says, “he wanted you to fight him. He’s just a big, dumb bully.” 

“That doesn’t mean we should do it,” Aang argues. Toph leans over to punch Aang in the arm. 

“No duh, rockhead. But sugar queen already knows that, doesn’t she?” Toph rubs Katara’s back some more. 

“I’m sitting right here,” Katara mumbles, scrubbing at her eyes. Sokka walks around to kneel in front of her. He forgets sometimes that she’s only fifteen.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Sokka says. “That wasn’t how you should have found out.”

She shrugs. Katara’s always been the kind of person to take comfort from physical affection, and having all of them crowded around her is doing more than words ever could. 

“There’s something _wrong_ with our family,” Katara says, wiping under her nose. “First Jet, now Zuko? Did Mom and Dad have a secret evil soulmate too?” 

“Well, there _was_ Pakku and Gran-Gran,” Sokka says thoughtfully.

Katara shudders. 

“You’ll tell me later,” Toph says, and Katara elbows her with a small smile. Toph elbows her back hard enough that Aang has to catch her, and Katara laughs wetly. 

“I shouldn’t have done that,” she admits, looking shyly at Sokka. It’s such a departure from their normal relationship, Katara playing the parent and Sokka playing the loveable brother. He accepts it, the sincerity comforting.

Sokka wiggles a hand in a so-so gesture. “Probably not. Murder is bad, as a general rule.” 

“I’ve never heard that,” Toph argues. Sokka turns to her, holding up a finger. 

“Really?! Name _one_ person you’ve murdered and gotten away with it,” he challenges. 

“If I told you their name, I wouldn’t get away with it,” Toph says. 

Sokka crosses his arms. He opens his mouth, closes it. Makes a face. 

“Damn. You got me.” 

Sokka turns to Katara. “So murder’s probably legal, but we shouldn’t do it. Or Aang will be sad.” 

“How is _Aang_ the only one who’s been in jail?” Katara mumbles. 

“Okay, tell me _now,”_ Toph demands. “Twinkletoes?!”

“Toph,” Aang pleads, “tell me you’re joking.” 

Sokka grabs Katara’s hand and pulls her up, making a face. “Uh-oh. We better get out of here before this turns loud.” 

“What was it for? Did you steal a cow-pig to save it from the butcher? Did you rescue some orphans but accidentally break one’s hand? Did you—”

Aang mutters something indistinctly.

“MURDER CHARGES?!” Toph shrieks.

“I guess the Fire Nation _does_ have some uses,” Katara muses as they head back into the clearing. “If those soldiers hadn’t charged in, we wouldn’t have been able to kick their butts.”

“Aang would have been fried,” Sokka agrees. They break the clearing and see Zuko leaning against Appa's side, eyes closed. Lee is slowly sliding down Appa’s side, on a direct collision course for Zuko’s head. 

“That would have been horrible,” Katara says quietly, so as to not wake Zuko. She makes a face. “But the snacks would have been better.”

They both still and watch with anticipation. Katara grips Sokka’s hand when Lee scrabbles to the right, whispering, “no, come on.” As if she can hear them, Lee flops back over, loses her grip, and falls directly onto Zuko’s head. 

Katara and Sokka both cheer. 

“AHHH!” Zuko yells, hitting the ground in a crash of feathers and squawking. “Lee— LEE! NO! THAT’S AN OUCHIE! LEE!” 

“That’s an ouchie,” Katara says, wonderingly. She rubs her eyes and looks at Zuko again, as if seeing things. 

Sokka doesn’t tell her what he’s thinking, which is that Zuko’s tragic and adorable and possibly the funniest person he’s ever met, aside from Toph. He rubs at his chest where it’s aching. 

Eventually Lee and Zuko untangle from each other, and Zuko stands over her unrepentant little beak, finger in her face. 

“Bad,” he says, and wiggles it. “That’s a _bad._ We don’t _do_ that.” He points at his head. “This is my head.” He points at Lee’s feet. “Those are your feet.” Lee, slowly, raises one leg to try and put it on Zuko’s head. “NO!”

Sokka has to cover his mouth, afraid that someone will see the expression he’s making. If it’s anything like the goopy warmth in his chest then he’s gonna be _eviscerated._

Lee squawks, clearly frustrated. She puts her leg down.

“Good,” Zuko says, and reaches out to pet her beak. While he’s distracted, she lifts her other leg and kicks him in the face. “LEE!”

Katara cackles in a way that she definitely learned from Toph. 

Zuko, who is on his back on the ground, bends his spine upwards so that his head is flat on the ground and he can stare at them upside down.

“Oh, hey,” he says, as Lee pecks at his clothing. “Sorry I yelled at you, earlier. It was immature. I’ll do better.”

Katara blinks at him, and when she smiles it’s warm and soft. “I take it back,” she says to Sokka, pulling some water from her hip and letting it glove her hand, “he’s nothing like Jet.” 

Then she kneels down next to Zuko. Zuko crabwalks away, warily.

“I said sorry,” he says.

“Your nose,” Katara explains, and Sokka notices that it’s bleeding from where Lee kicked it. “It could be broken.” 

“So you’re going to...drown me?” Zuko asks, still crabwalking. He hits Appa, and stares at Sokka pleadingly.

“Yep,” Katara says sagely, letting the water on her hand start to glow blue. 

“You said she’d say sorry!” Zuko says, and reaches up with one foot, like he’s going to try and climb Appa that way. “This is just more murder!”

Sokka moves to sit next to them, laughing, and pokes the water on Katara’s hand. “She’s a healer, you idiot. What, did your fancy Fire Nation spies not tell you?” 

“You don’t get spies until you’re 15,” Zuko mutters, but stops trying to walk up Appa. He flops onto the ground, and then moves to a sitting position, leaning forward.

“I’m a warrior,” Katara argues, narrowing her eyes. She brings her hand to Zuko’s nose and Sokka has a moment where he truly wonders if Katara’s going to drown him. Or make icicles shoot up his nostrils, killing him instantly. Or— 

But he can already see Zuko’s nose moving a bit, the blood clearing up. Zuko is going comically cross eyed trying to stare at it, and when he forgets and breathes through his nose he chokes and sputters. Katara pulls her hand back.

“If you’re trying to drown yourself, I can’t help that,” she says, exasperated.

Zuko holds up a finger, coughing. Then he sniffs, loudly, wipes at his wet face. “Thanks,” he says. Then he frowns, prods at his nose, feeling the shape of it. 

“You healed it from when Azula broke it,” he adds, surprised. 

“Who’s Azula?” Sokka asks. 

“Hopefully you’ll never find out,” Zuko says cryptically. 

Sokka studies him. Zuko’s got a lot of damage on his face— mostly small scars, but then the big, obvious one. And now a broken nose that didn’t set quite right. Azula, whoever she is, must be pretty high ranking to get away with doing even that much to the Prince. 

It’s not a good train of thought, so he discards it. 

Katara doesn’t. 

“Secrets,” she says, poking Zuko’s cheek. “Spit it out.” 

“Sisters,” Zuko corrects. “She’s my little sister. And she’s tried to kill me way more than you have. More proof we were _meant_ to be in-laws.”

Sokka’s eyebrows shoot up. “There’s no way your sister tried--” he catches up to the rest of Zuko’s sentence and flushes, spluttering, “who said anything about _marriage_?” 

Zuko tilts his head. “Uh? No one? Why, is there something you want to ask me?”

Sokka knows that he’s making a stupid face. Katara laughs at him, but neither she nor Zuko elaborate on the miscommunication. 

Zuko sticks out a hand to Katara. “I’m very sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have goaded you. This is a weird situation for everyone.”

“I shouldn’t have tried to kill you,” she says, flushing even at the joking tone, regret clear on her face. “I don’t trust you, but that was out of line.” she takes his hand hesitantly and Sokka feels a moment of ridiculous jealousy. 

“It’s really not a big deal,” Zuko says reassuringly, shaking her hand. “If I held grudges against everyone who’s tried to kill me when I’m annoying, I’d never get anything done.”

“That’s really sad,” Katara says genuinely. She holds his hand between hers. “I’m sorry your sister hurt you. Sisters shouldn’t do that.” 

“Uh,” Zuko says and lets her hold his hand. He looks kind of bemused, like no one’s ever told him that before. “Cultural differences?”

Katara’s expression shutters, and Sokka knows what she’s thinking about-- what she always thinks about, when the Fire Nation as an abstract is brought up. She lets go and brushes off her skirt, looking towards the woods where Aang and Toph are still horsing around. 

“We need to get going,” she says, “we’re wasting moonlight.” 

“Ugh,” Zuko groans, and drags himself to his feet. “Okay.”

“No,” Sokka disagrees. “We should make camp here. If anyone was following us we would have seen them by now, and Zuko can’t sleep during the day. Plus, I think we’ve all had enough of Appa for one night.” 

Appa groans at him, offended, and Sokka shrugs. “What? Sorry pal, but you stink.” 

Zuko glares at Sokka, petting Appa’s side. He adopts the same tone he had with Lee, sweet and motherly. “It’s okay. You can’t help smelling disgusting,” he says, petting him. “I bet they don’t even give you baths, huh? Huh, Mister Horrible Smelling Flying Buffalo?”

“Appa likes him,” Aang says cheerfully from behind them. Sokka shrieks and jumps, just as Appa licks Zuko along the side of his head. Momo chitters from Aang’s shoulder, pointing at Zuko’s face. 

Zuko’s shoulders tense, and then start shaking, and when he breathes out he breathes fire. 

“EEEW!” he yells at the sky. Appa licks him again. Zuko runs, ripping off his over shirt to wipe at his face.

“Wow, someone more dramatic than you, Sokka,” Toph muses. She and Aang are covered in mud. Sokka doesn’t want to know. 

“Go make camp before I make Sokka drama at you,” Katara says. Back to their familiar routine, Sokka yells indignantly, falling on his face when he tries to climb onto Appa to gather their supplies. 

“So is Zuko our prisoner, or is he our friend?” Aang asks Katara. “Oooh! He could be my firebending master! He’s always been really good at shooting fire at us! I bet he could teach me.”

“Ask him,” Katara says, looking at Zuko where he’s running away from Appa’s slow, lazy pursuit. “But I don’t think it’s a good idea.” 

***

“And that’s why it would be really great if you taught me how to firebend, when Toph’s done teaching me earthbending, Sifu Hotman!” Aang says, still bowed hopefully. 

Zuko stares at him, blankly.

“So you can kill my dad,” he says. 

Aang makes a face. “So we can stop the Fire Lord,” he corrects. The distinction is childish and only pisses him off more. He focuses on the heat in his palms, careful not to let it ignite. 

“Yes, stop the Father Lord— the Fire Lord, my _father_ , by _killing_ him,” Zuko says. His voice is tight, angry. 

“Hey,” Sokka says, coming into view with a stack of firewood in his hands. “What are you guys upsetting Zuko with now?”

“I’m not teaching him how to firebend,” Zuko says. 

Sokka blinks. “Yeah? You said that already.” 

Zuko snatches the wood out of his hands, heading for the fire pit. That will calm him down. “You tell him that, then!”

Zuko could probably hear what Sokka says to Aang, but he doesn’t want to, focusing on his flames where he lets them eat up the timber. It’s good wood, dry and hollow. His fire surges in his chest, down his palms, itching to destroy, to burn, to _consume._ He flops on the ground in front of the fire after it’s fully caught, trying to time his breath with the rising and falling of the flames. Soon enough it falls in, and he falls into a shallow meditation. 

His father deserves to die. He _knows_ that. He knows that any bit of good in him, any bit of good for the Fire Nation, has long ago been eaten away. His sister might be beyond saving, left alone too long with him, too corrupted by his style of leadership.

But his mom left him behind for a reason. She left him to take care of Azula. And Azula _loves_ their father. He’s the only person she cares about outside of her soulmates. If Zuko kills him, Azula will feel no compunctions about killing Zuko and taking the throne. To kill Ozai, to lead to his death, is to put a knife between _her_ ribs. Cut the remaining heart out of her and _burn it._ Azula as Fire Lord would be beyond catastrophic for the nation, for the world. If Zuko comes to power in that way— if he strips away the thin veneer of civility they still cling to— she’ll see no reason to be any better.

The Fire Lord needs to die. There’s no way around that. But Zuko can’t be a part of it. He won’t do that to her, he won’t put her in a position where she feels she’s been left with no option but to kill him. He won’t put himself in a position where he has no option but to kill _her._ His father’s taken enough from him already. He can’t take that.

He doesn’t get to make _Zuko_ like him. He doesn’t get to make Zuko someone willing to murder his family to climb to power. _No one_ gets that from Zuko. 

Not even his soulmates. 

“Hey,” Sokka says, hand on Zuko’s shoulder. Zuko tenses, cutting off his defensive strike before it can make contact, startled that Sokka was able to sneak up on him.

Sokka lets go and steps back but doesn’t look concerned. Actually, he sits down next to him, casual as anything, and stretching out his legs in front of the fire. 

“I told Aang that you weren’t ready to commit to treason yet. He doesn’t get it, and frankly neither do I. I mean, if he’s already going to be learning firebending, why not from you while you’re right here, all flamey and teacher-able?” 

Zuko springs to his feet. “Why don’t you just kill your sister?!” he yells. “You have a knife! It would be so easy! How about you give me your knife and I go kill her! You fucking asshole!” 

Sokka’s looking at him with wide, startled eyes, but he doesn’t get up.

“That’s not even close to what I said,” Sokka says, eyeing him with worry. 

“It doesn’t have to be!” Zuko yells, the fire rising. “It’s what you _meant._ ”

“No? It’s not?” Sokka says, irritated. 

Zuko gets irritated that Sokka’s irritated, the fucking nerve. 

“You know that Ozai, Fire Lord of the Fire Nation, is my father, right?” he asks, despairingly. “You understand that he’s my _dad._ You understand that stopping him is killing him. You understand _all of that._ Why can’t you understand that I don’t want to actively murder my father?”

“I’m not asking you to,” Sokka says, even though it’s clear that he doesn’t see the issue. “I’m asking you to teach Aang firebending so that he can stop him for you. You do understand that he needs to be stopped?”

Zuko gapes down at him. He can’t understand what’s not getting _through._

“Yes,” he says, forcing his voice to lower. “But I’m not going to do this. It’s not a _yet_ thing. It’s a _never._ ”

“What about your people?” Sokka asks, getting frustrated and raising his voice. “You’re going to abandon them? You were supposed to take the throne after him, right?” 

Zuko laughs at that. 

“Yeah, Sokka,” he says, hands on his hips. “I was supposed to. And I did my duty. I did it for _three years._ I fought my soulmates. I did everything I could to return to them. And what has it gotten me? What has it gotten _them?_ Nothing. I’m not good enough. I’m not _going_ to be good enough.”

Sokka tugs on his wolftail, scowling. “Shut up. You’re plenty good enough, and I’m starting to think you’re everyone’s best option. But if we don’t take out _your dad_ then you can’t take the throne at all.”

“I’m not the only firebender in the world,” Zuko says, ignoring the rest of it, how it makes him flush dully. “Why can’t it be someone else?”

“Sure, it can be someone else,” Sokka says, “but why? Why search for someone we don’t know, possibly not finding anyone? Why waste our time when the perfect person is right here?” 

It knocks something loose in Zuko’s head, the _someone we know, perfect person._

“Uncle!” he crows triumphantly. “Ha! You want my Uncle. I’m not even a good firebender, he taught me everything I know.” 

Sokka gives him that look again, nose all wrinkled and eyes squinty. “Sure, I’ll play,” Sokka says. “Obviously you’re an excellent firebender-- all the destroyed buildings and burns on me would argue that-- and, why’s it different if your uncle helps and not you?” 

“Because my uncle isn’t _me?”_ Zuko says, throwing his arms out. 

Sokka falls onto his back, legs hanging on the log they’d been using as a bench, eyes to the sky. “Yue, help me,” he moans. 

Zuko jerks like he’s been shocked. It’s always a weird sensation, hearing her name. He hadn’t even been conscious to meet her, but he can feel her absence. 

“I don’t know what’s so hard to understand,” Zuko says, the energy draining out of him. He sits down on the ground. 

“Look, you eat the seal even if you’re not the one who clubbed it, and you’re still eating a seal for supper,” Sokka says, like that explains it. 

“I’m not comfortable with anyone eating my dad,” Zuko says, and gives up on the conversation entirely. He lays down. 

“You’re looking very glowy tonight,” Sokka tells the sky. “Did you change your hair? I’m going to talk to you instead of Zuko because he’s stupid.” 

“Sokka, the moon doesn’t have hair,” Zuko says, and kicks at Sokka’s ankle. “This is immature.”

“She does too,” Sokka argues. “Yue’s got the prettiest hair-- don’t tell Suki. She’d agree if she ever met her, but you know girls and their hair.”

Zuko props himself up on his elbows to stare at Sokka. 

“Are you...feeling well?” he asks. He’s heard that losing your soulmates can drive someone mad. But Sokka seems so _normal._ Or— not normal. But not— “I’m going to get Katara, you’re talking nonsense.”

Sokka’s hand shoots out to grab Zuko’s wrist. He doesn’t look away from the sky, and Zuko has a moment of panic, completely unfounded.

“Do you know how Yue died?” Sokka asks. Zuko’s not prepared for the change in subject. After talking so candidly about his father and Azula, he’s not even sure if he can handle this conversation. 

“She died in Zhao’s invasion,” Zuko says, quietly. Uncle had offered to tell him about her, but Zuko hadn’t wanted to hear it. He’d rather be missing someone he never knew than get scraps of what could have been. 

“She was so brave,” Sokka says, voice hushed. He’s not crying, and Zuko’s thankful for it. He hasn’t met his threshold yet, but he feels like that would be it. He’d just panic and punch and kick until he could run away. “Do you know who La and Tui are?” 

“The ocean and moon spirits?” Zuko asks, after some thought.

Sokka nods. “I’m surprised your uncle didn’t tell you what happened. He was there.” 

“I didn’t—” Zuko settles back on the ground, this time so he’s at Sokka’s side. “I couldn’t handle hearing it. I was tired.”

“Lucky you,” Sokka says sourly. “I wish I didn’t have to live it.”

Zuko just sighs, unsure what the right thing is to say. Clearing up what happened, Zuko’s role in it, means hearing what Sokka _thought_ happened.

“Zhao killed Tui, in order to take out all of the waterbenders, I think. He was ranting about something, but I didn’t really listen. Your uncle was trying to stop him. Your uncle-- he’s a good guy. A really good guy.” 

“Yeah,” Zuko agrees, still stuck on Zhao killing the _moon._ “Wow. Uh. That explains a lot. That must be why the big blue fish spirit took him.”

That gets Sokka’s attention, and he turns to look at Zuko, eyebrows high. “It killed him?” 

Zuko shakes his head. “I don’t know. He was alive, last time I saw him. I—” 

He cuts himself off. Sokka wouldn’t understand why he’d offered him a hand. Zuko’s not sure that knowing about Tui would have changed it, either. Zhao was _scared._ He was terrified, and helpless, and the spirit was so _big._

“If he’s not dead, I’ll kill him the next time I see him,” Sokka says darkly. In that moment Zuko doesn’t see a goofy teenager-- to be honest, he hasn’t seen that in Sokka in a while-- but instead sees a man in mourning, vengeful.

“Well, with Tui dead La went into a rage, taking Aang with her. And Yue--Yue told us about how when she was born she was sick, and how her parents had prayed to the spirits to save her. They did. And your uncle,” Sokka says, bitter now, “suggested that maybe the gift could be returned.”

Zuko stares at the moon. It looks like… the moon. He pokes around inside his heart. There’s still an empty, gaping hole in it. He turns his head, to study the side of Sokka’s face.

Sokka looks like he believes it. That Yue really is the moon. And Sokka’s here, fingers still wrapped around Zuko’s wrist, forgetting to let go. Sokka’s the important part.

“She was so brave,” Sokka says again, softly. “She wasn’t even scared. It was the right thing to do, so she did it. That was Yue, I guess. I didn’t really get the chance to know her.” 

“I’m sorry,” Zuko says. 

“If we don’t stop the war,” Sokka says, staring at the moon, “what was her sacrifice for? You and Zhao and your father-- they invade, and they kill, and they’re not going to stop. And what would Yue have died, for?” 

Zuko looks away. 

“I don’t want to be like them,” he says. “I don’t want to kill anyone.”

“Must be nice,” Sokka says, and closes his eyes. “You and Aang will get along great.” 

“Yeah, no,” Zuko says. He swallows. “My Uncle will help. And I’m sure we can find him. I uh— we had a fight. It was stupid. I can—”

He squeezes his eyes shut, hating himself for even thinking it, for being so desperate for Sokka’s approval. 

“I can teach Aang enough not to hurt anyone by accident,” he says, the words dragged out of him. “Meditation. Breath. He’ll be ready to train for real when he meets Uncle.”

Sokka’s hand tightens on Zuko’s wrist. His hand is shaking. “I feel guilty, for some reason,” he admits. 

Zuko snorts, something hysterical and awful bubbling up in his chest. “I mean, that _was_ one hell of a guilt trip just now.”

“Yue would be so upset with me,” Sokka says, turning to look at Zuko, something hopeful in his face. 

“Sounds like she got the common sense,” Zuko says, and twists onto his side as well. 

Something shifts. They’re laying in the moonlight, facing each other, and for just a moment Sokka’s not Sokka, the Avatar’s friend, annoying guy with the boomerang. He’s just-- Sokka. A devastatingly pretty boy who grins big enough for both of them. 

“Suki got some too,” Sokka says softly, staring at Zuko intently. He slides his hand, moving to press their palms together where he’d been holding Zuko’s wrist. 

“What’d we get?” Zuko asks, focused on the way their fingers line up. His are slightly longer, peeking over the tops of Sokka’s. 

“Nothing good,” Sokka muses, then makes a face. “No, I take that back. We got the good jokes. Yue and Suki aren’t funny at all.” Slowly he threads their fingers, one at a time, until they’re holding hands properly.

“I dunno,” Zuko says, and tips his head consideringly. “It was pretty funny that Suki told me to wear higher collars right before knocking me out. In retrospect.”

“I got the funny,” Sokka corrects. “That’s not funny at all. That’s just a thing that happened.” 

“A joke is just a thing you say,” Zuko argues. 

Sokka makes an outraged noise, leaning up to glare down at Zuko. “Excuse me! There is _so_ much more that goes into good joke telling!” 

Zuko can’t help smiling, but he tries to press it down anyways, Sokka swinging their joined hands emphatically. “Really? Prove it. Tell me a funny joke.”

“Wha-- I can’t just perform--” Sokka stammers, shaking their hands at him.

Zuko nods solemnly. “Yeah. I’ve heard that a lot goes into jokes. Like, humor.”

“You’re a joke,” Sokka grumbles, pouting. He falls onto his elbow and it puts their faces closer. Very closer. 

Zuko laughs. “Yeah, you’re right. Okay. Okay I got one. The Crown Prince of the Fire Nation walks into a bar. He goes to buy a drink. The bartender says, your money’s no good here. And the Prince says, what? But it’s worth more than the bar! And the bartender says, yeah, but it’s got your ugly face on it!”

He pauses, thinking over the joke as Sokka fails to fall into hysterics. It really wasn’t as funny as when June told it. The bar had _howled_ when June told it. “It was way funnier when June—”

“Hilarious,” Sokka deadpans, and kisses him. Zuko kisses back, eyes sliding closed, hand sliding to the back of Sokka’s neck.

“GET A TENT!” Toph yells, and the ground shakes as they’re pushed away from the fire, and stone walls erect around them. 

“Oh no,” Sokka breathes, sitting up and wiping his mouth, “I wasn’t trying to--” he looks around them, at the impromptu privacy, blushing. 

“Wasn’t trying to what?” Zuko asks stiffly, sitting up as well. There’s not much room in the earth tent, but he tries to find it, leaning against the wall.

“Uh,” Sokka says, “uh.” 

“Let me guess,” Zuko drawls. “You don’t know why you kissed me.”

“No, I know why. ‘Cause I wanted to. Kiss you. On the mouth.” Sokka’s looking at his mouth. It’s hard to make out his face with the moonlight obscured. 

“If you’re going to regret this, don’t do it,” Zuko whispers, barely able to get the words out.

“This,” Sokka says, squeaky, “was just supposed to be a kiss. I’m,” he covers his face, “Toph doesn’t know what she’s doing,” he adds. 

Zuko snorts, tension breaking. Then he laughs. “Sorry you— did you think I was— you don’t have to _sleep_ with me, I thought you were upset about...”

“Don’t laugh at me,” Sokka says, still covering his face. 

“Aww,” Zuko says, and nudges at his leg with his foot. “No, it’s cute. I’ve never been with a virgin.”

The tent and the ground under it gets shoved even further away. Sokka pushes Zuko over with his hands, staring at him stubbornly from above.

“I’ve been _busy_ ,” Sokka says, “and I’m not gonna take advantage of you like that.” 

“I was joking,” Zuko says, laughing at him harder. And then he narrows his eyes. “Take advantage of me.”

“I’ve _done stuff_ ,” Sokka adds, not noticing. “With. People.”

“Yeah, I don’t actually care,” Zuko says, sitting up. “No offense. What do you mean, take _advantage?”_

Sokka sits up too, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. “You don’t really, I don’t know. Want to be here? Know where you fit in? Whatever it is, you care a lot about the soulmates thing and it wouldn’t be fair to push that before we’re,” Sokka gestures between them. “You know. Less ‘wow you tried to kill me last week’ and more ‘hey I really lo-- like you.’” 

Zuko stares at him incredulously. 

“Of course I care a lot about the _soulmates_ thing,” he says. “I’ve always cared about the soulmates _thing._ We’re— it’s a deeper bond than marriage, than blood. Don’t you care?” 

Sokka shrugs. “Sure I do. But I care about choices, too.” 

“Okay,” Zuko says, trying to untangle that. “Right. Well, I choose to prioritize my soulmates. And I chose to follow you, when I thought there was a pretty high chance of you just handing me over to Aang so he could kill me. Because you’re my soulmate.” 

Sokka rolls his eyes. “You obviously don’t know Aang at all. He’s wanted to be your friend since the beginning. He wants to _talk to_ the Fire Nation to get them to stop.” 

“I mean,” Zuko says, frowning quizzically. “It’s not really the Fire Nation’s choice?”

“We’re getting off topic,” Sokka says, crawling back over to Zuko. 

“What’s the topic?” Zuko asks, sighing. 

“I wanna kiss you some more. But you said you didn’t want to care about me, remember?” Sokka’s in his space again, leaning over his lap.

“Eh,” Zuko shrugs, and grabs at Sokka’s hem. “We’re both killing ourselves now. It’s fine.”

“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, letting me care about you,” Sokka warns. He brushes their lips together chastly, eyes still open. “We do things differently in the tribes.” 

Zuko thinks about that. He… has no idea what Sokka’s referring to.

“Is it like, a sex move?” he tries. “I thought you didn’t want to—” 

“Oh jeez,” Sokka says again, burying his face in Zuko’s neck. He grips Zuko’s shirt over his belly and tugs on it. “No, nothing like that. I just meant--”

“Are you trying to warn me that you might fall in love with me?” Zuko guesses. 

“Well, that,” Sokka admits, pulling back to grin at him. “But also, once you’re a part of the tribe, you’re always ours. So I’m not ever gonna let you go.”

“Fucking dreadful,” Zuko deadpans. “Just what I was hoping not to hear. Relationship security? Disgusting. Deal breaker.”

“I’m serious!” Sokka says, tugging at Zuko’s shirt some more. “If you wanna bail to return to the Fire Nation or run away from Aang or anything, I won’t let you. I’ll hunt you down, and we’re known for our hunting.” 

“So you’re threatening me with...being...your… love prisoner?” Zuko tries. 

Sokka stills. Then he shoves Zuko over, climbing away, muttering, “nope, nope, nope,” under his breath. 

“Hey!” Zuko says, and grabs at Sokka’s ankle to keep him from running out of the tent entirely. “Listen. I’m here because I want to be. I— everything I’ve done, and some of it was _stupid,_ was so that I could have a chance with my soulmates someday. I’m not going to let you go, either. Unless you ask. Because it would be pretty fucked up if I didn’t take no for an answer, right?”

“You can’t just say stuff like ‘love prisoner’ with a straight face!” Sokka says, covering his face again. 

“What was I supposed to call it?” Zuko asks, irritated. 

“Nothing. Shut up. Shut up! Come here and kiss me, and then I gotta go get my bedroll. Toph wakes everyone up disgustingly early.” 

“You’re very romantic,” Zuko reassures him, letting go of his ankle and crawling over to where he can get at his face. “I’m just not a very romantic person. That was exactly out of a romance novel.”

Sokka grabs Zuko’s face and there’s a surreal moment where he’s distinctly, acutely aware of the fact that Sokka’s about to shove his tongue in his mouth. Sokka, friend of the Avatar, Water Tribe Brat, is about to try and deep throat him.

The more surreal thing is that he’s _good at it._

“I thought you were a virgin,” Zuko gasps, lips stinging.

“I’ve done stuff,” Sokka says smugly. “With people.” 

Zuko glares at him, and shoves him out of the tent before he can get a big head. Then he crawls after him, out into the moonlight.

He glances up at it. It’s just… a big white rock in the sky, glowing gently. Same as ever. _Yue?_ he thinks silently at it. Nothing noticeable changes. 

“Hey, where’s your bedroll?” Sokka asks, walking back with his own in hand. “It wasn’t on Lee.”

“I don’t have one,” Zuko says, and moves closer to the fire. He pulls off his overshirt, folds it up to tuck between his arm and neck. “It’s fine, I run hot.”

Sokka visibly shudders, and the points to his bedroll. “We can share?”

“Uh,” Zuko says, face reddening. “I think uh. I should probably sleep by myself. Until— until if you change your mind. About...stuff.”

Sokka shifts on his feet, setting Zuko with a look. “Shut up. I’ll sleep out here if you wanna be by the fire, I like the stars,” he says, shaking out his bedroll. Sokka glances at the moon. 

Zuko watches in dull horror as Sokka threatens him with cuddling. It’s so much worse than all the other threats he’s leveraged at Zuko over the course of their acquaintanceship. And there’s been a _lot._

“I’m—” he says, desperately lowering his voice to a whisper. Why is Sokka making him say this out loud? “It’s going to make it _hard_ to sleep.”

Sokka considers him, and then unrolls the bedroll into a large square mat instead of a tight roll. “There. Room for two.” 

“I need to,” Zuko says, and gets to his feet. “Um. I have to go use the woods. Privately.”

“Don’t ambush us,” Sokka jokes. It’s too soon, and he cringes. 

“I’m the one being _ambushed,_ ” Zuko says, dragging his hands down his burning face. “If I’m not back in an hour something ate me.”

“Wow, slow pooper, huh,” Sokka says. 

The fire flares behind Zuko as his embarrassment does, and he kicks dirt over Sokka’s bedroll before stomping off into the trees.

“Rude,” he can hear Sokka muttering. 

It doesn’t take even close to an hour. It barely takes close to _five minutes._

“This is ridiculous,” he says, leaning back against the tree, staring at the moon through the leaves. The moon stares down at him. He wipes his hand off on the bark, and glances back at it. “Uh. If you’re actually Yue. Sorry if you...saw...anything.”

He watches the moon for a while, looking vainly for some response. The cool night air dries the sweat on his skin, cools the fire in his chest. Before long, he’s calm enough to go back.

Sokka’s asleep when Zuko gets back to camp, despite it being less then a half an hour. He looks cute. Damn him. He’s laying on his back, hand tucked under his shirt, belly out. He’s snoring, hair let out from its wolftail, mouth open wide and drooling onto Zuko’s overshirt. He must have grabbed it in his sleep.

It’s disgusting. Zuko lays his outer robe over Sokka’s body anyways, curling up as far from him as he can get. He stares at the fire, watching it rise and fall with his breath until his eyelids flicker shut. He yawns, jaw cracking, body becoming heavy. 

Something heavy lands on his waist. Sokka’s hand tucks up under Zuko’s shirt, and his eyes snap open, the fire flaring as he sucks in a sharp breath.

It’s going to be a long night.


	3. Chapter 3

“Hotman Zuko!” Aang calls out excitedly. He’s covered in dust and dirt, bleeding idly from a cut in his jaw where Toph nailed him with a particularly dastardly pebble. 

Zuko turns on his heel and walks away, back towards Appa, where he’d just grabbed the sack Katara had requested of him. 

“ Where you going?” Sokka asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as Zuko brushes past him.

“Away from here,” Zuko says shortly, dropping the sack into Sokka’s arms and storming off. 

Sokka frowns after him. But Zuko storms off like— eighteen times a day. He just needs to go yell fuck and shoot fire at some water for a while and he’ll be back.

***

“Zuko!” Aang calls, “Wanna learn how to fly Appa?” They’re in the air, making sure to move around to avoid whoever his father sent to retrieve Aang now that Zuko’s not available to do it. He hopes it’s not Azula.

It’s probably Azula. 

Zuko doesn’t acknowledge him, playing with a bit of loose thread on his sleeve. If he ignores Aang often enough, eventually he’ll get the idea. And he won’t have been rude to Sokka’s precious little Avatar. 

Sokka elbows him in the side. “You still scared?” he asks quietly, dipping his head to keep his words between them. They’ve been sitting closely, a strange balance between comfort and unfamiliarity in each other’s personal space. 

“I’m fine,” Zuko says, shoulders hunching inwards. He rolls the string between his fingertips until it's a tight ball, then unrolls it. 

“Zuko? Did you hear me?” Aang calls. “Wanna learn how to drive, buddy?”

Zuko sucks in a deep breath through his nose, and then lets it out through his mouth. “I heard you!” he calls back. 

There’s an awkward silence. He rolls the string back up. 

“So do you?” Aang asks. 

Zuko rips the string out of his sleeve viciously. “I’m good!” he says, grinning so that the smile sounds in his voice. 

“Um, what’s wrong with your face?” Sokka asks.

*** 

Aang flops next to him, startling Zuko awake. He’s getting better at not attacking people when they do that, although he’s more than a little disgruntled that Sokka’s not tucked up next to his side anymore.

 _“What?”_ Zuko snaps, heart pounding in his chest. He feels irrationally abandoned, and rationally cornered. “What the fuck do you want?” 

“Sokka’s flying so we can hang out!” Aang says cheerfully, gripping his ankles where he’s cross-legged. Katara’s watching them while she mends Toph’s pants. 

Toph’s lounging, ass out, flat on her stomach on the saddle. 

Zuko can’t believe this is how his soulmate lets him know that he _hates_ him. 

“I was sleeping,” he says through gritted teeth.

Aang nods. “Sokka says you can’t sleep during the day. Maybe if you stopped napping at night, it would help--” 

“Maybe if you stopped breathing you’d become immortal!” Zuko yells. “Do you hear yourself?”

Aang’s mouth snaps shut and he frowns, offended. Katara’s hand has stopped moving the needle, and she’s not being subtle where she’s staring, now. 

Zuko takes a deep breath, one eye on Katara. She likes Aang. Sokka loves Katara. Zuko’s soulmate is Sokka.

“I’m sorry,” he says, stiffly. “I’m overtired. What did you want?”

“Is it a firebender thing?” Aang asks. Aang’s been incessant about firebending and the Fire Nation and all of the things that Zuko doesn’t want to think about. 

“Yes,” Zuko says. 

Aang stares at him, hopefully. Zuko widens his eyes sarcastically. He answered the question, what does he _want._

“Why?” Aang asks, rocking forward. “No other benders are affected in their sleep.” 

“That’s not true,” Katara pipes up. “When the full moon is out, I can’t sleep at all.” 

“The sun,” Zuko says. 

“So firebenders draw their power from the sun?” Aang asks, eyes wide. “Wow! What happens during an eclipse?”

Zuko sighs, rolling his eyes. “What happened when the moon disappeared?”

A rush of emotion washes over Aang’s face, fear-guilt-curiosity. He really needs to work on that if he’s supposed to mediate between hostile nations. 

In anyone else, Zuko would feel bad. Would want to help. On Aang, he just feels— angry that he felt anything at all. Frustrated that Aang would make him feel _bad_ for him.

“Huh,” Katara says. “Too bad eclipses are super rare.”

“Uh huh,” Zuko says, and stretches his legs out. 

“I saw one when I was a kid,” Aang says helpfully. Zuko’s eye twitches. 

“Why did you ask me if you already knew?” Zuko asks. “That’s the centennial one.”

Aang shrugs. “Maybe you have new information. I’ve never been friends with a firebender.” 

“Did he say centennial?” Toph asks, twisting onto her front. Zuko yells wordlessly, covering his eyes. “That means one hundred years! Sparky, is there another one soon?”

“PUT ON SOME PANTS!” Zuko demands.

“No,” Toph says casually, sitting up and bringing her foot to her nose to itch it. Zuko peeks, to see if she’s laid back down, and howls again. 

“TOPH!” 

“C’mon,” Sokka calls back, “give the guy a break!” 

“I really think that the eclipse that happens every _hundred years_ and _destroys firebending_ is more important than pants!” Toph calls back.

“The what?” Sokka demands, twisting in the saddle. Appa veers left, and he has to correct him. 

“Haha, casual nudity,” Aang says, and an elbow nudges Zuko’s. “It bothers me too!”

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Zuko says, and curves his arm into his side.

Aang’s face drops. “Not a hugger,” he says, sounding a bit hurt. “I get that! You know, I wasn’t a hugger at first, either.”

“Stop lying,” Toph says. 

“I’m not lying!” Aang says. “I’ve avoided hugs before!”

“Name one,” Katara says. 

Toph crawls over to him and Katara looks away politely. “Yeah, name one,” she says, opening her arms to him, nudity and all. 

“NO!” Zuko yells. “LAND THIS STUPID THING FASTER, SOKKA!”

“You hate hugs,” Aang says tearfully, pulling Toph into his arms. “Thank you!” 

“Mmm,” Toph says, squeezing him. “But I _adore_ making Zuko uncomfortable.”

“I hate this, I hate this, I should have kept hunting you,” Zuko mutters, rocking back and forth. 

“Aang, Toph, leave him alone,” Katara says. Somehow, probably magic, they listen to her casual command even while ignoring Zuko’s complete breakdown, moving to sit around her while she works, teasing and poking each other. 

Zuko, face so red that his eyes are starting to water, feels more certain than ever that keeping Katara happy is key to _his_ happiness. She’s got them all wrapped around her finger. 

***

“WRONG,” Zuko snaps for the tenth time. Aang relaxes out of his striking ox pose, groaning.

“My legs are as wide as I can make them!” he complains.

“I didn’t tell you to make them wider!” Zuko says. “Do what _I_ do.”

He has been holding this position for so long his arms are starting to hurt. Aang had pestered him, and then Sokka had pestered him, and then Katara had made vaguely threatening faces, until Zuko agreed to teach some basic stances. Zuko did not agree to teach basic stances _well._

Katara comes up to them with a stormy expression, hands on her hips. Terror rushes through Zuko. 

“Zuko,” she says, “I think we should talk.” 

“In full view of others who can witness any crimes that might occur?” He asks hopefully. 

“Sure,” she says, and that’s somehow more threatening. Katara turns to Aang. “Go work on your breathing, please.” 

“Sitting down?” Aang asks hopefully. 

“If that works for you,” Katara answers. Then she glares at Zuko. 

“What?” Zuko asks, trying to look innocent and non-threatening. He can’t figure out what to do with his hands, so he locks them together behind his back, where she can’t see them shake.

“You’re being mean,” she accuses. “Aang can’t learn like that. Even Toph uses positive reinforcement with him.” 

Zuko nods, absorbing this critique. “I hear what you’re saying. I think it would be better for everyone if I stopped teaching Aang basic stances.”

“Just stop being mean!” Katara says. “Say something nice to him every once in a while!”

Zuko frowns at the ground.

“No, I think I should just stop,” he says.

“You’re being completely unfair,” Katara says, scowling. “You’re perfectly nice to me and Toph. I know you can do it.” 

“You and Toph aren’t the Avatar,” Zuko says. 

“What if we were?” Sokka asks from where he’s been sitting on the ground, painstakingly braiding grass into a circlet. 

“All of you?” Zuko asks, raising his eyebrows. “That’s _really_ not how that works, Sokka.”

“Sure,” Sokka agrees, “we all shave our heads, get some blue paint. It’ll be like therapy!” 

Zuko has serious questions about what Sokka thinks therapy is. 

“Fine. Which of you is going to kill my father?” he asks. 

“Dibs!” Toph says, brandishing the blade that Sokka uses to shave. She pops up from a hole in the ground to do it, startling Sokka into falling over. 

Zuko can’t help snorting out a laugh, even though it undermines his point.

“Okay, I am physically incapable of being nice to Toph now,” he says. “Toph, I hate you.”

“I can feel your heartbeat,” Toph says. That’s creepy. “You love me. But you know who your heart tells me you love more?” 

“The...river?” Zuko asks, and then runs to dive into it before she can embarrass him. She stomps upwards, catching his feet in stone traps. He hits the ground on his palms, groaning. 

“SOKKA!” She yells, cackling. “Zuko looooooooooooooves Sokka!” 

Aang floats by in his underwear, spinning a flower in a tiny tornado in front of him. 

“I don’t want to teach Aang firebending,” Zuko says, and fire kicks free of the earth. He drags himself to his feet. “And no, I can’t just choose to be _nice_ about it if you want me to anyways.”

He storms off for real this time, and Toph lets him go, possibly sensing his violent intent in the way that his feet leave scorch marks in the earth behind him. 

***

“We have to do something about Zuko,” Katara says, glaring at the fire. Zuko is off in the woods taking his nightly alone time, where he does deep breathing or something in order to prepare to be cuddled. Sokka doesn’t really get it, but the guy has personal space issues. 

“We’re already pushing him out of his comfort zone,” Sokka says, and throws a rock into the fire. 

“My baby!” Toph yells, too loud, startling Sokka into falling over. He does that a lot, and she cackles, like always. 

“STOP THAT,” Sokka snaps at her, righting himself. He spitefully tosses another rock. 

“He’s being ridiculous about Aang,” Katara insists. “Aang’s been nothing but nice to him. And we’re _all_ trying to kill his dad. He can’t just put all of it on Aang, the only person who doesn’t actually _want to._ ”

Sokka doesn’t think that’s what this is actually about, but he doesn’t understand Zuko well enough to be able to elaborate what the real issue is. 

“I mean, the way he talks about him, you’d think Aang put that scar on his face!” Katara says explosively. She immediately looks guilty, and Toph whistles. 

“Zuko’s got a scar on his face?” she asks. 

Katara fidgets. “Yeah. A big one, all over the left side of his face. I think he’s blind in that eye.” 

“Huh,” Toph says. 

Sokka frowns, feeling uncomfortable without being able to place why. “I don’t like talking about it behind his back.” 

“Well then why don’t you talk about it to his face?” Toph asks. “He’s heading back here. Ask him what happened. It won’t solve the Aang thing, but maybe it’s part of why he’s so prickly. Stuff like that can make things weird. You remember when I first joined, and me and Katara fought anytime she tried to help me or she asked for help.”

Sokka’s been intentionally not asking about it, because that’s major baggage if he’s ever seen it. He thinks vaguely that maybe it was his sister, since he mentioned that she’s the one who broke his nose, but even that possibility makes him nauseous. 

“You’re both just bullies,” Sokka says, and gets shot into the air by a stone pillar. 

“So’s your boyfriend!” Toph calls. “C’mon, Katara, bed time.”

Sokka hits the ground hard, right at Zuko’s feet, teeth vibrating with the impact. 

***

There’s a joke in there about Sokka falling for him. Zuko’s not confident enough to make it, after three weeks of going off in the woods for… _deep breathing._

What Sokka insists loudly, to anyone who will listen, is for deep breathing.

“What’d you do to Toph?” he asks, nudging Sokka’s shoulder with his foot in what he hopes is a comforting manner.

“Killed her rock baby,” Sokka answers, laboriously climbing to his feet. Zuko’s seen him on the ground due to Toph more than he’s ever seen him fall in battle.

Zuko offers a hand. Sokka takes it, gripping tightly once he’s righted and not letting go. “That makes sense,” he says blankly. Sokka’s hand is warm in his, and he’s not letting go. He’s pulling Zuko closer, actually. 

They don’t really— they touch a lot. They touch a lot, and most of it is… not accidental, but not intentional either. It’s like they’re magnetized, and they drift towards and into each other whenever they’re not paying attention. This feels intentional, in a way it hasn’t since that night when Sokka kissed him. 

They haven’t kissed since. It’s not as if they’ve been avoiding it. More that when there’s a moment where it could happen, where they’re calm and the night is still and that secret pocket of _them_ builds…

They lose it. Either from someone in camp interrupting, or from their own hesitance. It’s stupid, because the first kiss should have been the hardest. 

“Hey,” Zuko says, softly. Sokka steps closer and closer, takes Zuko’s other hand. 

He leans forward, and Zuko stops breathing. Closes his eyes. Feels their foreheads press together. _Yes, yes, yes._

“How’d you get that scar?” Sokka asks. 

Zuko headbutts him and then immediately wrenches away. Sokka clutches at his head with a cry of pain, crouched low like he’s waiting for another blow. It makes Zuko feel guilty, which makes him angrier.

“WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?” they yell, at the same time. 

“ME?!” they yell. “YOU!”

Sokka stands, pointing an accusatory finger at him. There’s already a red spot on his forehead and his eyes are watering. 

“I’ll— go ask Katara for ice,” Zuko blurts out, and tries to move past him.

“No!” Sokka says, grabbing Zuko’s wrist. Zuko holds his breath, carefully looking from his periphery, _fear fear fear._

Sokka’s not mad. He’s scowling-- more of a pout, actually, and he’s rubbing his forehead with his other hand. But he’s not _angry._ Zuko doesn’t know what to expect, if not anger. He doesn’t know how to prepare.

“Talk. Stop running away,” Sokka says. 

“Looks like rain,” Zuko says. He points at the sky. It’s cloudless. “Or. It could. Sometimes high winds bring clouds in suddenly—”

The night air is deathly still.

“Zuko,” Sokka says.

“Sometimes high winds happen suddenly,” Zuko attempts, desperately. Sokka’s fingers are loose around his wrist. The only thing keeping him here is his inability to leave. 

“Talk to me,” Sokka tries, desperation lacing his voice. “For once, just tell me something straight.” 

“I thought you were going to kiss me,” Zuko says, and wrenches his wrist free. He crosses his arms over his chest, but turns to face Sokka. He’s not running away. “And then you asked about the worst day of my life.”

“I got distracted!” Sokka yells, and then visibly takes a breath, relaxing his shoulders. 

Zuko flinches. “Yeah. Well. It’s pretty distracting, isn’t it.”

“No, you dumbass,” Sokka argues. “I was gonna ask you about the scar first, and then your stupid _face_ distracted me into wanting to kiss it. And that, the way your voice goes all? It’s not _fair._ ” 

“...are you sure you don’t want me to get Katara?” Zuko mumbles, rubbing at his face. It’s suddenly too hot. “You’re delusional.”

“Stop bringing up my sister,” Sokka hisses, poking at his chest. “It’s not gonna distract me.” 

“Distract you from what?” Zuko says, and tries to make his voice do the _thing._ He doesn’t know what the _thing_ is, so he’s pretty sure he fails. He goes for breathy, the way Ty Lee would when she was flirting.

Sokka’s lips twitch. He flattens his palm on Zuko’s chest, sliding it up to cup the side of his neck. “Don’t you dare weaponize it,” he says, but there’s no heat to his voice. 

“Neck,” Zuko says, blankly.

Sokka’s lips twitch some more. He squeezes. “Yeah? Good to know.”

Zuko makes a horrendous, entirely involuntary noise. It’s loud. Toph cackles in the distance.

“Actually—” Zuko says, and ducks out of Sokka’s reach, “--let’s talk about my scar!”

Sokka’s left with his hand in the air, gaze calculating. He drops it to his side and sighs, turning towards the camp. 

Zuko moves over to the fire, because even when he’s talking about _this_ , it’s comforting to be near his element. He wonders if there’s waterbenders who’ve almost drowned. He grabs Sokka’s blanket, wraps it around his shoulders tightly, tucks it into his arms and over his stomach until he feels compressed and safe.

“I want to know,” Sokka admits, “but I don’t want to make you relive it if it’s bad. I have some bad memories, too.” 

“You can’t make me relive it,” Zuko says, only half listening as he attunes his breath to the fire. Sokka sits next to him, pressed against his side. “You’re not a firebender.” 

Sokka shivers, and even though it’s probably just for show Zuko opens the blanket so that Sokka can slide in with him. Sokka takes the other end so that Zuko can settle comfortably against him. 

“Do you know what an Agni Kai is?” he asks, very quietly. He doesn’t doubt that this information will get to the rest of the camp, but they don’t get to hear it from him. 

“No,” Sokka admits, just as quiet. He’s looking at the flames, and somehow that makes it easier. 

“It’s an honor duel, between firebenders,” Zuko says. He takes a deep breath. The fire breathes with him. That helps. Seeing that he controls it. “When I was thirteen—” 

Sokka stiffens, likely with accurate assumptions, head snapping around to stare wide-eyed at Zuko. “No,” he says, heavy with dread. 

“When I was thirteen,” Zuko forges on. Sokka can do the math. He knows how long Zuko’s been banished, roughly. “I made a mistake. I spoke out of turn in a war council meeting. They— what the General was suggesting, it was.”

It still makes him angry. He’s angry at himself for the disrespect, but he’ll always be angrier on the behalf of those recruits. Zuko lived. They didn’t.

“The specifics doesn’t matter, it was wrong. We were to fight an Agni Kai, for my disrespect, and his callousness. But.”

“You dad didn’t stop him?” Sokka asks. His breath ghosts along Zuko’s face, warm against the chill that’s overtaken his body. “You’re the _prince._ ” 

Zuko laughs. It’s high, more of a hysterical giggle-snort than a true laugh. 

“My father,” Zuko says, and Sokka’s— Sokka’s absurd faith in a world so different than his actually makes it easier to say. He wants to horrify him. “Considered it _his_ honor impugned, as it was his war council. I couldn’t fight him, even when he ordered me to. He found that disrespect...intolerable. I was banished, after I was healed enough to travel.” 

It works. Sokka reels back, face pale and hands in fists like he can fight Zuko’s demons with knuckles and disgust in the here and now. The blanket falls off of his shoulders, and Zuko grabs it before it can be flung into the flames. For just an instant, he falls out of his body, in the Agni Kai ritual chamber, tapestry falling from his shoulders as he turns and sees—

But then he wraps it tightly around his shoulders again, and it fades.

The flames rise and fall with his breath, but the rise is growing and the fall is dissipating. “How could he-- how could _you--_ ” Sokka stutters. The flames climb, and climb. 

“How could I _what?”_ Zuko demands.

Anger on Sokka’s face, anger that’s so familiar and sets him on edge. One side has him offended, aggressive, preparing for the attack. He’s _ready_ to attack a Sokka whose face holds such a fury in it.

The other side has him cowering, familiarity in the face of it, a comfort in the supplication, in preparing for the blow. 

Sokka’s his soulmate. He can’t be angry at Zuko over this. 

But Sokka being his soulmate has never mattered before, when Zuko needed him to take his side.

“How can you _still be loyal_?!” Sokka bellows, rushing to his feet and towering over Zuko’s hunched shoulders. “He’s a monster!” 

The fire flares, and if Zuko’s arm hadn’t caught in the blanket, it would have hit Sokka. The tangle catches his instinctive response, but he’s already fallen back, knees akimbo and arms clearly raised to defend himself.

Zuko stares up at Sokka. He’s really— he’s not sure what he’s done to give the impression that he’s _loyal._

“I’m not loyal to him,” he says, voice shaking. He can’t force his arms down.

Sokka’s eyes shiver as they track Zuko’s face, his arms, the clearly pathetic way he’s trembling in the face of Sokka’s anger. Sokka hasn’t even struck him and he’s on the ground. What an imposing war prince he is. Zuko wonders if Sokka’s rage will turn to disgust and spite, the same way his father’s had. If he’ll strike out. Zuko doesn’t know if he can strike back.

“Zuko,” Sokka says, kneeling to wrap his fingers around his wrists and pull him to his feet. Sympathy drips like bile and Zuko wrenches his arms away, stumbling to his feet on his own. 

That’s worse. How is it _worse?_

“I’m not loyal to him,” Zuko says, voice firmer even as he tears up. “I’m _here._ ”

“We’ve been over this,” Sokka says desperately, stepping towards him again. Zuko steps back. “You’re only here because you can’t be _there._ But he’s a monster, and he needs to _die._ ”

“He’s my _dad!”_ Zuko screams. The fire shoots up, a column that leaves the logs beneath cracking like thunder. “And he _hates_ me! So you have nothing to worry about, you can drop it, he doesn’t _want me_ , what I want is never _going_ to be important.”

He’s crying, angry fat tears. How dare Sokka make him _feel_ this, how dare he wrench this hurt free. Sokka doesn’t deserve this. This, his relationship with his father, it belongs to _him._

“He couldn’t make me attack him,” Zuko sobs. “If you think your— your petty fucking guilt trips are going to make me, then you have no idea.”

“That’s not what this is,” Sokka argues. “He hurt you, and he’s _still_ hurting you, and he’s hurting everyone else in the world too, and I don’t, I don’t _get it,_ ” Sokka stammers, hands waving, eyes darting around like he can find answers in the leaves of the trees. 

“I’m not going to stop you,” Zuko pleads. “Isn’t that enough? Can’t that be enough?”

“No!” Sokka yells. There’s something in his voice, in the way that it cracks. Zuko can’t-- he just can’t. “It’s not! You deserve--” 

“To be a murderer?” Zuko snaps. “Yeah. I’d love to make myself an orphan, thanks—” 

“I’M NOT ASKING YOU TO KILL HIM,” Sokka bellows, and this time when he makes his chest big and gets in Zuko’s face, Zuko lashes out.

His fist connects even as his brain thinks _oh no._

Sokka doesn’t block. Zuko’s not even sure if he could have. He goes sprawling back over the sitting log, and Zuko douses the fire with a twist and chop of his hand just before Sokka’s hair catches. 

“I didn’t—” Zuko stutters. The blanket falls to the ground again, but this time he ignores it. “I didn’t mean to—”

Sokka groans, rubbing the back of his head. His hand comes away dark, but with the sudden loss of light he can’t tell if it’s soot or something worse. 

“I’ll get Katara,” Zuko says, and runs for the stone tent she, Toph, and Aang share. 

“Zuko,” Sokka says, and he ignores him, falling to his knees at the edge of the tent. His breathing is labored and he knocks gently at the side. He knows they’ve heard at least some of it. 

Talking hadn’t helped anything. He should have just gotten Katara to begin with, when it was just a bruise. An accident. Two _accidents_ in a row are not— she might think differently of having Zuko around, if he’s going to be around, _hitting her brother._

“He’s by the fire,” Zuko says when Katara’s head peeks out, the stone door brought down as soon as Zuko stopped tapping at it. Her hair is loose, a cloud of curls and tangles around her face, but he refuses to look in her eyes and see judgement or hate. 

“Want your own tent?” Toph asks, sympathetically. Aang is curled up under her arm, snoring.

Zuko considers this. 

“Can you close me in?” he asks. He doesn’t want to talk to Sokka again tonight. Isn’t sure what will happen if they try, is sure it won’t be anything good.

“I love entombing people!” Toph says enthusiastically. “Go pick out a spot, stomp twice when you’re ready.”

Zuko looks at the fire. Normally he’d want to sleep as close to it as possible, but a moment’s glance reveals Katara with her arm around Sokka’s shoulder and the pang of regret hits him so fiercely that he has to swallow down nausea. 

“Oof,” Toph says. “That doesn’t sound healthy. Go pick out a spot to lay down, Sparky. I got you.”

He knows he should feel grateful. He probably will in the morning. Right now he’s all feelings’d out, and he nods dully, dragging to his feet. 

“Huh?” Aang asks, stirring. “Zuko?”

Zuko immediately stops dragging his feet, darting out and away from the main center of camp. He finds an area that’s mostly dirt and moss, and stomps.

The earth rises around him, closing him in on all sides. It’s horrible. It’s exactly what he’d asked for. 

He makes his bed, taking off his overshirt to crumple in the crook of his arm as a pillow, and then lays in it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> suki suki suki suki SUKI SUKI SUKI SUKI

“SUKI’S HERE”, Sokka screams. Zuko shoots up, sweating, stale and waxy from his fitful attempts at sleep. 

He’s spattered with dirt as the tent rolls back into the earth. 

“Ugh,” Zuko says, shielding his eyes from the sun. No wonder he feels so bad; he should have been up hours ago. He reaches for Sokka’s waterskin, hand patting around at his side. 

Oh. Right. 

“Whatchya looking for?” Toph asks. He startles. She’s. Way closer than he expected, somehow. 

“Wuh,” Zuko mumbles. His entire body feels heavy and confused, slowly waking where the sun hits him.

“Baby’s first word,” she coos, handing him her canteen. He doesn’t even have the braincells to scowl at her yet, body warming slowly. 

“SUKIIIIIII!” Sokka is yelling, somewhere in the distance. “SUKI SUKI SUKI SUKI SUKI I MISSED YOU!” 

A bright laugh rings out, and Zuko chokes on his water. That’s _not anyone’s laugh._

“Sokka! You’re in my ear!” 

“Oh, yeah,” Toph says, and takes her canteen back. “Suki’s here.”

 _“Wuh,”_ Zuko says, standing so abruptly that his head rushes. 

“Baby got another syllable in him? Maybe,” Toph pauses, counts on her fingers. “Three? Four? How do you count _k.”_

“What the _fuck,_ ” Zuko says, very quietly.

“We could be related,” Toph says. “You sound just like me. I’m so proud of your vocabulary, it’s really coming along.”

“Hey,” Aang says, wandering over, a bright smile on his face. “Did you see? Your other soulmate is here! Isn’t it great?”

Sokka’s spinning Suki in the air. Her face is shoved against the side of his neck, but Zuko can still see where she’s grinning huge, bright white smile framed with red, red lips. 

“Sokka! Put me down, you! I have to greet the others!” 

“No way! My Suki!” He stops spinning her, and Zuko rolls his lips between his teeth, fighting against the jealousy that settles heavy in his gut. Sokka leans back, brushing her hair out of her face where it’s been messed up from the twirling, and kisses her. 

Zuko stops fighting the jealousy. 

“Aww,” Aang coos. “They’re so cute. Aren’t they so cute, Zuko?”

“I have to pee,” Zuko says, storming away. Sokka’s still kissing Suki, who’s giggling and slapping at his chest. 

“Liar,” Toph sing-songs, quietly. 

Zuko finds a tree and forces the situation, just to spite her.

He washes his hands and face in the stream, and then just gives up and dunks his entire head under. His hair is full of dirt. Standards have dropped, with constant travel, but he’s avoiding the main camp. 

Zuko pulls his head out. 

“Okay,” he says, and takes a deep breath. Lets it out. Takes off his clothes, mumbling to himself. “Hey, Suki, I’m Zuko. You know. Your soulmate. I’m really sorry about the village burning stuff. I mean, I’m sorry it was _your_ village. Wait. No.”

“That’s a bad apology,” Suki says from behind him. 

Zuko screeches, stumbling into the water as he tries to pull his pants back on. He falls on his back, pants far too low on his hips for comfort.

She’s still grinning, hair tangled and the headdress disappeared. Sokka’s behind her, hand on her waist, and he blinks innocently at Zuko.

“HEY SUKI,” Zuko yells. He tries to make his voice quieter. It doesn’t work. “I’M ZUKO. YOU KNOW. YOUR—”

“She _knows,_ Zuko,” Sokka says, covering his eyes like it physically pains him to look at Zuko. Zuko knows the feeling.

“Awh, let him try,” Suki says, peeking up at Sokka. “It’s nice.” 

“SORRY,” Zuko yells. He coughs wetly into his shoulder. Tries again. “Sorry. About. The fire. Hands. At your favorite buildings.”

Suki pokes her bottom lip with her index finger, staring at Zuko. Sokka stays mercifully silent, but he can see Sokka’s hand trailing down her hip. Without breaking her gaze she takes it and moves it back up. 

Sokka giggles. Zuko has _never_ heard Sokka giggle. 

“I’ll do whatever you want?” Zuko pleads, desperately. He tugs his pants up a little higher. They snag on a rock, and rip. It’s just that kind of day.

“Wash my back,” Suki decides, pointing at him. There’s a smudge of red on the tip of her finger. He can’t stop staring at it. 

“Can it be something else?” Zuko asks, reddening. 

Suki turns to Sokka, pouting. “Fake apologies. I thought you said he’d _changed_?” Sokka shrugs, face trembling as he fails to hide his entertainment at Zuko’s despair. 

“NO I MEANT IT,” Zuko says, and scrambles upright. He grabs at his shirt on the shore. Suki puts her foot on it. Zuko stares up at her with pleading eyes. She drags it a few inches closer to herself. Zuko draws his hand back, slumping. 

He’ll just. Close his eyes. Except he can’t close his eyes, because he might touch the wrong part on accident, which would be _worse_. 

When he opens them Suki’s already naked and stepping into the water. Sokka is actively stripping, tossing his shirt onto the bank and stepping out of his pants. 

“Agni fuck shit,” Zuko says, snapping his head down to look at the water. 

Rudely, it’s reflective.

“You guys have the best curses,” Sokka complains, splashing into the water and reaching for Suki with grabby hands. Zuko doesn’t know Suki very well, but he knows her enough to predict when she flips Sokka into the water with the barest of effort. 

That’s soothing, actually. Sure, they’re both— naked— and soulmates— but they’re not _naked_ and _soulmates_. It’s just like the baths. 

“I’ve been travelling for days,” Suki tells Zuko. The water reaches just above her navel, and her breasts are just. There. Just there, and he looks away again, embarrassed. 

Zuko doesn’t have a cloth to scrub with, and he doesn’t have any soap. He glances at his shirt on the bank. Grabs it. Folds it into a square and dips it into the water.

“Do you want it to be hot,” he asks, waving it vaguely.

“WHAT,” Sokka splutters, after being tossed back into the water by Suki. He wipes his hair out of his eyes. “You could have been doing that? The whole time?” 

“Not for you,” Zuko snaps, shoulders tensing. He sets his jaw, looks at Suki. “Hot?”

Suki’s eyebrows shoot up. She takes the cloth and dips under the water, scrubbing off the makeup, and breaks the surface as gracefully as she kicks Sokka away and into the water for a third time. 

“Yes, please.” 

Zuko cracks a shy smile, because he’s pretty sure she doesn’t _always_ just beat Sokka up. And she hadn’t snapped at him for snapping at Sokka. 

“Sokka,” Suki says, glancing over her shoulder. He pouts at her, shooting water from his mouth. Suki doesn’t even flinch as it hits her in the chest. 

Zuko tears his eyes away from watching the way the water drips, and focuses on heating the rag. The first time he dries it out too much, and has to redip it.

“Sokka,” Suki says again. “What’d you do to Zuko?” 

Sokka splutters as Zuko steams the shirt-turned-washrag. 

“It’s fine,” Zuko lies. He doesn’t have a right to be upset. He’d hit Sokka, twice, and then went off to sulk. He also doesn’t feel like apologizing. “Can I have your back?”

“I wanna wash your back,” Sokka pouts, dipping underneath the water until only his grumpy eyes and eyebrows are visible. Suki pushes back against Zuko’s hands. 

“You always get to wash my back. I’ve never been with Zuko when we’re not playing keep away with Aang before,” she says patiently. 

Zuko snorts. Years of dedicated hunting, and she calls it _keep away._ The image is— the image is something. It’s not even entirely wrong. 

“Plus,” she adds, “I gotta figure out if I can trust him or if I have to kill him.” 

“That’s fair,” Zuko agrees, even though his hand stills for a moment. He forces it to press the cloth against her back. There’s not much dirt crusted on, so instead he focuses on finding any tense spots in the muscles. There’s. A lot of muscles. He swallows.

“Oh?” Sokka asks, sitting on a rock and scrubbing at his feet with a rag, “how do you plan on doing that?” 

“Couldn’t she just ask Katara? Or Toph?” Zuko says. “Katara’s already tried once.”

“It would make me sad, so they wouldn’t do it,” Sokka says matter of fact. “They like me more than they like the idea of murdering you.” 

“My Kyoshi Warriors don’t like you at all,” Suki says cheerfully. “Either of you!”

“Your Kyoshi Warriors,” Sokka snarks, “are _cheaters_.” Then he throws the rag at her. She catches it, laughing, and tosses it back. Sokka lets it hit him in the face. 

“Mmm,” Suki hums, and her voice lowers suggestively. _“My_ Kyoshi Warriors know there’s benefits to not… _playing…_ fair.”

The water around Zuko starts to gently steam. His eyes widen and he stares at his feet, which are attempting to light the riverbed on fire. He instructs them to quit it. They do, resentfully.

“Oh,” Sokka moans, drifting onto his back, “ _That’s_ the stuff.” 

“Put that _away,_ ” Zuko says, hyperventilating as Sokka’s legs start to drift past him. And the parts. Above his legs. He squeezes his eyes shut.

Suki tenses beneath his hands and she reaches out, gripping Sokka’s ankle before he drifts downriver. “Sokka. You’re making Zuko uncomfortable.” 

Sokka frowns. “I’m not? You’re the one who stripped in front of him and demanded he touch you with his sexy firebender hands. I’m just following your lead, like always,” he twirls his hand in the air dramatically. 

“We can stop,” Suki offers, glancing over her shoulder at Zuko. 

“It’s just—” Zuko says, and tries to think of a way to word it. A bad time? An awkward moment? Caught him unprepared, and Sokka’s acting like nothing’s wrong, like Zuko can’t still hear his angry voice ringing in his ears, see him reaching for Suki, smiling in a way he never has for Zuko? “Weird morning.”

He tosses the rag on shore, since it’s basically a prop at this point, and heats his hands. He presses his thumbs to her trapezius and circles them. Suki makes a high, surprised noise in the back of her throat, and leans more heavily against him. 

“We can’t have sex here,” Sokka says where he’s still anchored by Suki’s hand. His voice is a little strangled. 

“You’ve made it clear _we’re_ not having sex anywhere,” Zuko says, steadily. “I’m just giving her a massage.”

“Hm,” Suki hums thoughtfully. There’s an implication in the noise, but she doesn’t offer anything after it. 

“Unless?” Zuko asks her. 

“Oh? No, I was just wondering why Sokka would tell you no. I mean, he’s such a slut normally.” Sokka sputters and thrashes in the water, struggling to right himself as Suki doesn’t let go of his ankle. 

“Wonderful,” Zuko says, tightly. He presses his thumbs in again, spreading them out slowly through the skin. Suki moans, head falling forward, short fingernails digging into Sokka’s ankle. “He has some standards, apparently.”

“Shut it,” Suki says sharply. “None of this self pity bullshit. Sokka gave it to me about Yue already, I don’t have it in me to go through another round.” 

“I’m not self pitying,” Zuko says, trying to explain it correctly. At least, he wasn’t _then._ He has before, absolutely. “I’m furious.”

Sokka’s probably drowning. He’s still thrashing under the water, and Suki still has a hold on his ankle. 

“Should we…” Zuko says, but doesn’t pause his massage.

“I guess,” she says, and Sokka surfaces, hacking. 

“YOU,” he rasps, pointing at her. Suki very deliberately steps away from Zuko’s hands. 

Zuko’s still angry. But Sokka’s face is _really_ funny, and something in his heart is warming, the muscle loosening from blunt force fondness.

“Me?” Suki asks innocently. She and Sokka start to circle each other, and Zuko backs up, out of the blast radius. 

They don’t attack each other. 

The fondness twists in his heart as they kiss, a knife of something between _longing_ and _regret._

“AAAH,” Suki shrieks as Sokka breaks the kiss to flip her into the water. Sokka’s laughing, face open and gleeful, and Suki’s hands burst from below to drag him down with her. 

Zuko climbs out of the river. His pants are ripped in the ass, and soaking wet. He drops them on the ground beside the crumpled up shirt, and takes Sokka’s. They’re too short on him and too large at the hips. 

He walks away from the shrieking and giggling, rubbing at his mouth to force his expression away. Zuko settles into his usual mask of indifference, clothes clutched in his hands. 

Suki likes him. Or— she’s willing to make the _effort_ to like him, anyways. The same way Zuko’s willing to make the effort. At least. Before Sokka has talked to her. Explained that Zuko doesn’t want to help kill his father. Explained whatever it is he believes about Zuko’s conditional loyalty, and the likelihood of Zuko turning on them. 

***

“We need to go shopping,” Katara says where she’s mending Zuko’s clothes. He’d only allowed her to do it after the third thread burned up, Zuko too caught in his own head to modulate the heat in his hands. 

He’d used to embroider, with his mother. It was good control practice. Apparently, he was better at keeping his temper as a seven year old.

“Shopping!” Sokka says cheerfully. Suki’s laying with her head in his lap as he braids flowers into her hair, and she looks up at him, amused. “I love shopping. We should get Suki a Fire Nation outfit, and I think my bag is getting really shabby looking--” 

“Wait, are we _in_ the Fire Nation?” Zuko asks, and his hands burst into panicked, uncontrollable flame.

“Yeah,” Sokka nods, gesturing to the trees that look identical to the Earth Kingdom trees. “We’re near the colonies.” 

“Wow, you really didn’t know?” Aang asks. “See, this is why you should sleep during the _day—”_

“SHUT UP!” Zuko yells, rushing to his feet. He clenches his fists, forcing the flames out. “Shut the _fuck_ up! I don’t like you, I don’t want to be your friend, and I don’t want you giving me _friendly advice!”_

Everyone else is frozen except Katara, who’s dropped the mending and is storming over to Zuko, fury in her gaze. Aang blinks at him, wide eyed and tearful. It’s unfortunately familiar. 

“Fuck,” Zuko says, and dances a few steps back. He can’t decide between raising his hands in surrender or defense, settles for just continuously backing away from her.

“Spit it out,” Katara snaps, shoving at his chest. By now the others are standing, following awkwardly and watching. “What’s your deal with Aang?” 

Zuko laughs. He’s been _clear_ what his deal with Aang is. It’s a bad idea to laugh, but he can’t help it.

“Katara,” Aang says, taking her arm. She wrenches it away, and he spins her to get a look at her face. “Katara, it’s fine. I don’t want any more hostility between us.” 

They watch each other, something silent in their gaze. Katara’s shoulders don’t relax. 

“I’m trying,” Zuko tells him, even as it’s hard to talk to him directly. He’s a decent enough kid. Zuko might even like him, if it wasn’t for the givens. “I’m trying.”

Aang nods solemnly. Katara takes his hand, glaring angrily at the ground. “I understand. I represent everything you lost, and you can’t let it go. I want us to be friends,” he says, the hand not in Katara’s out, palm up, “but I understand that I’m pushing you. I shouldn’t be.” 

“You lost more than me,” Zuko admits. It hurts to say, and he can’t look at Aang while he’s saying it. But the stupid brat is actually _trying_ for once, instead of just trying to make Zuko be who he wants him to be. And Katara’s still shaking with fury. 

“It’s not a competition. I guess I just didn’t understand what you wanted from us,” Aang admits, rubbing the back of his neck. He glances to Sokka and Suki, both standing tensely to the side, closer to Zuko than him. “I wasn’t paying attention.” 

“You’re going to kill him,” Zuko says, raising his chin, forcing him to meet Aang’s eyes. “Maybe— maybe after. It will be easier. You’re important to them.”

“Aang was here first,” Katara says angrily. “We’re not gonna let you bully him. He’s important, more important than you, and he doesn’t need to worry about you while he’s working to save the world you destroyed.” 

“I’m aware of where I _rank,”_ Zuko snaps. 

Sokka steps forward, to Zuko’s side. “That’s not fair, Katara. I know that you don’t actually feel like that about Zuko anymore.” 

“Shut up,” Zuko says, and elbows Sokka. He actually— he gets it, actually. “Katara. I represent the Fire Nation to you, right? Every evil thing that’s happened to you, and to the world. Even though I didn’t do most of them.”

“I’m Zuko’s Fire Nation!” Aang says. Then he makes a face. “Wait, no, that sounds weird. Zuko already has a Fire Nation”

Katara nods stiffly, stepping closer into Aang’s side. “It doesn’t have to be like this,” she tells Zuko. 

“Will you stop pushing me to teach Aang firebending?” Zuko asks. He’s not just asking her. He’s asking Sokka, too. 

Sokka looks at him helplessly. “I made a promise to Aang to help him end the war a long time before I met you,” Sokka says. “I can’t stop trying, not when you’re right here.” 

“I know where I rank,” Zuko repeats, but there’s no vitriol in it this time. “I can’t promise I’ll be nice about it.” He turns to Aang. “But if you stop pushing me, I’ll try to be harder to push.”

Aang nods, and smiles. It pisses him off, how easily the kid can smile. “I still have hope.” 

“I’m going for a walk,” Zuko announces, instead of saying _fucking nice for you, you bald little prick._

***

“Stay here,” Suki says, hand on Sokka’s chest. He’s staring at where Zuko ran away into the brush, big puppy eyes filled with worry. 

That was a lot to absorb, and she’s still filing bits of it away. Zuko’s tension with Aang, and with Sokka, is starting to make sense. 

“But--” Sokka argues. She leans up and pecks his cheek. 

“Please. Let me. If I need you I’ll come get you.” Sokka makes a face at her, but leans down and kisses her back. 

“Fine,” Sokka sighs. “Go use your feminine wiles on him.”

“Oh, I don’t think he’s done anything to deserve _that,”_ Suki says, and gives Sokka a loving punch to the stomach as she goes. He gasps dramatically, and they both smile. 

Following Zuko through the woods is pathetically easy. She leaves less of a trail when she storms off angrily, and Zuko had _barely_ been storming. As she walks, she begins to find smoldering footprints in the leaves. 

Wow. 

“Don’t blast me,” she says, pushing aside a bush to see Zuko at the riverbed again. He’s staring at a flame in his palms, and it flickers up and down. Mostly up, though.

It’s like a little heartbeat. When he sees her it swells and then goes out, and Suki blinks to adjust her vision. 

“Hey,” Zuko says tightly. He wants her to leave, she can tell by the tone. He attempts something that could be a smile. “Back dirty already?”

“Oh, my back’s not the one that’s on the ground,” she jokes, stepping out of the wilderness and into the clearing. 

“Would you be more comfortable if I stood?” Zuko asks, half rising to his feet. He’s still got that awful tension grimace on his face.

“Sit,” she says, placing her hands on his shoulders. 

Zuko’s legs collapse under him but his shoulders tense almost to his ears. When she presses down experimentally they only tighten, and she sighs and steps back. She can respect his personal space. 

“So, I think I caught some of what’s…” she twirls a finger in the air. “Going on between you and Sokka. Do you want to clarify now, or do you want me to tell you what I think it is first?”

“We could just sit in silence?” Zuko asks, hopefully. 

“Sure, but then we have to have this conversation with Sokka, later.” Suki reaches up to grasp a tree branch, swinging idly. 

Zuko runs a hand through his hair. It’s getting shaggy. Last time she’d seen him, it had still been in that little ponytail. And with a severe receding hairline. 

“I like your hair,” she says helpfully. “Even if I miss the handle.” 

“Yeah?” Zuko asks, tilting his head to look up at her. It flops out of his face, and his smile is more genuine. “I’ll grow a new one.”

Suki smiles, startled by the way Zuko’s warms her. “Just for me,” she agrees, pulling herself up onto the branch. 

“Wouldn’t do it for anyone else,” Zuko says. He twists to face her, but looks down at his palms, calling the flame up into them. “Me and Sokka had a fight last night.”

She wants to say something sarcastic, but she doesn’t, genuinely surprised. Maybe they’re lucky, and it’s true that they don’t spend very much time together, but Sokka is awfully hard to genuinely fight with. Play fights, fights of sarcasm, dramatic arguments to blow off steam? Sure. Real fighting? Not relatable. 

“He doesn’t understand that I’m loyal to you and him,” Zuko says. Suki’s heart flutters. “Or he thinks that it’s because I have no other options. That’s… I don’t think he gets that my soulmates have _always_ been the option. I— I fucked it up, before. Trying to go back home. I thought it was the best thing I could do, the easiest way to end the war. The way that would work.”

Suki thinks about what she knows about Sokka and Zuko. It takes a while, and Zuko waits patiently. 

“You and he have fought each other for a really long time, right?” She finally asks. 

Zuko shrugs, the flame flaring in his palms before he calms it again.

“You’ve fought me a lot,” Suki muses. “You and your sister both. I don’t know that I would let _her_ anywhere near Aang, even if she were my soulmate.” 

“You shouldn’t,” Zuko says. The flame jumps, and stays high. “She’s very loyal to my father. She. She loves him.”

Suki tips down, hanging from her knees. She needs to be doing something, can never be still, always has to be moving some part of her body. “How do you know that she’s loyal? What does that look like?” 

“Never having a reason not to be,” Zuko says. “She fears him, I think. She’s not stupid. But she won’t turn on him. He favors her, encourages her. Can give her a future.”

“I thought that capturing the Avatar was supposed to be a great honor,” Suki muses. “Why give that to you if he doesn’t want your loyalty?” 

“He gave that great honor to me three years before Aang woke up,” Zuko says. The fire is higher now, almost licking at his chin. Suki watches it, frowning. “Right after he gave me my scar, and banished me.”

Suki’s not surprised by the information. She’d heard the rumors from the tradesmen in Ba Sing Se while she did her guards work. Everyone knew that the Prince of the Fire Nation was so awful, so terrible, that even his monster of a father had maimed and thrown him out.

“And yet, you still obeyed him for three years. That’s a long time. That’s how long Sokka was head of his Tribe, after his father and the last of the men left to fight in the war.” Suki flips back up, blood rushing, and spins twice before settling in a sitting position. “That’s how long it took me to become leader of the Kyoshi Warriors!”

“It only took you three—” Zuko starts, then shakes his head, shaking the thought away. He still looks a bit awed by her, though. He should. Suki’s a _prodigy._ “I couldn’t read my soulmarks. I still can’t. All I knew was that they were two Water Tribe people, and one from the Earth Kingdom. I thought that if I was restored as Crown Prince… I’d be in a position to end the war.”

Suki finds it hard to believe that Zuko’s spoken this openly to Sokka, by the demonstration they gave her earlier. 

“Sokka sees a difference between me personally killing my father, and me teaching Aang to kill him,” Zuko says, bluntly. 

“Honestly,” Suki says, “I agree with Sokka. But, I don’t think that’s really what matters. Can I tell you what I think?” 

Zuko throws his hands up, fire dissipating. Then he flops onto his back. “Sure! It’s all he talks about, but you probably know him better than me.”

Suki’s not deterred by Zuko’s explosive attitude. “I think you’re using this argument with Sokka as a distraction. I think you’re running away, because choosing your own path is scary. You don’t know if you’ll win, and you’re scared of getting hurt. I get it,” she says, dropping down, landing in a crouch. 

Suki settles by Zuko’s feet, not facing him, not touching him. She brings her knees to her chest. “I thought, without the island to protect, what do I do? I have a family, and they’re all depending on the Kyoshi Warriors to stay neutral, to protect Kyoshi Island. But it wasn’t the right choice anymore. There’s something bigger going on, and we have a duty to help, even if that means we fail. Even if I return to my island to see it burned to the ground without me there to protect it.” 

There’s a pressure against her side. Zuko’s toes, wiggling into the sand and underneath her butt. 

“Azula loves him,” Zuko says, and then he sniffs. Suki doesn’t look at him, but puts a hand on his ankle. “I’m— my mom said to take care of her. I promised. If I kill him, if I _help,_ I don’t know— I don’t know if she’ll ever get better. I don’t want to lose her forever. I don’t want to hurt her.”

Suki doesn’t understand Azula, with her cruelty and hatred. She thinks about her brothers instead, and uses that to guide how she processes what Zuko’s saying. 

“I learned to fight to protect my brothers,” she says. “They’re all older than me, and bigger than me, but they can’t handle themselves in a fight. They’re _pacificists._ ”

“Gross,” Zuko says, voice clogged. 

“Right,” Suki agrees, squeezing his ankle. “They’re who I left behind, and put at risk. Sokka left behind his Gran-Gran, his entire village. Yue left behind… everything.”

“Ugh,” Zuko says, muffled by what’s probably his hands. He sniffs again, loudly. “You’re so much better at this guilt thing than Sokka.”

“Can I ask? If we lose, what will happen to Azula?” Suki asks, leaning her head against Zuko’s knees. 

“Can I ask?” Zuko deflects. “Do you really think— do you think we can win?”

 _We_ Zuko says, and Suki hides her smile in his knees, rubbing her face against Sokka’s pants. 

“Because it’s not good,” Zuko adds. “She’ll— she’s not stable enough to rule. She’s scared, and it makes her lash out. She’d be destructive to the Fire Nation _and_ herself.”

“So if you want to protect her,” Suki says, “what’s the best play, here? Out of two bad options?” 

Zuko groans again. “Fuck.”

Suki pats his thigh sympathetically. It’s enough, she knows she’s won.

“I can’t believe I have to get along with Aang,” Zuko says. “That’s the worst part of this.”

“I dunno,” Suki says, “I think he’s pretty cute. Like a little, cheerful turtle-duck. What do you have against turtle-ducks, Zuko?” 

“How dare you,” Zuko says, and he moves to a sitting position, shoving his snotty and blotchy face into her field of view. “How _dare_ you question my love of turtle-ducks.”

Suki’s laugh is startled, and she grins, turning to face him. She wants to touch his face but stops herself, sitting on her hands. “Woah, touchy-touchy.” 

“I draw the line at telling Sokka I was wrong,” Zuko declares. 

“Kyoshi, I would _never_ ,” she swears, making a face. 

“He’s unbearable when he’s smug,” Zuko whines, and drops his face onto her shoulder. 

“He’s unbearable all the time,” Suki agrees, carefully threading her fingers through Zuko’s hair. Hah. She’s won soulmates. She’s the _best_. 

Zuko laughs, shoulders shaking. She can see just the curve of it in his cheeks, at this angle. “It’s easier when you’re here.”

“No duh,” she says. “You guys got the dumb parts of the soul.”

***

“Aang, I would be honored if you’d let me teach you to firebend,” Zuko says, bowed with his hands clasped. He’d considered doing this less formally, but Sokka had just taken a big bite of chicken. 

Sokka, predictably, chokes. Suki slaps at his back helpfully. 

“I’ve changed my ways,” Zuko forges on. Suki is snickering. “I just needed someone better to explain it to me. I’ve acted abysmally towards you.”

“Feminine wiles,” Sokka says, awed. Then he scowls. “ZUKO! You’re not allowed to do pranks!” 

“This isn’t a prank, Sokka,” Zuko says, twisting out of his bow to make wide eyes. He avoids looking at Suki. He’ll break. “I’ve reformed for the love of a good woman.”

Sokka screams, outraged, and lunges for Zuko with open hands. Suki trips him, and Zuko has to catch his collar to keep him from breaking his nose against the dirt. 

“So, we good?” he asks Aang, whose eyes are shining with delight. “I’ve never taught with positive reinforcement before, so you’ll have to give me tips.”

“I’ve been hit in the head too many times,” Sokka moans, limp in Zuko’s grasp. 

“Should have let me call Katara earlier,” Zuko says unsympathetically, and drops him. Sokka hits the ground forehead first. Suki leans down to pat at his ankle. 

“Suki should _always_ travel with us,” Aang decides. He bows to Zuko. “I’d be honored, Sifu Hotman!”

“Never call me that again,” Zuko says darkly. 

“Alright, Sifu Hotshot!”

The fire grows.

“Sifu Sparky?” 

Zuko lunges. Suki trips him.

“That’s the one,” Aang says, and there’s a whoosh as he hops up onto an airball. He does that when he’s excited. “Sifu Sparky! Best firebending teacher an Avatar could ask for! The only one available!”

“We’re not friends!” Zuko shouts angrily. 

“I can work with that!” Aang whoops.

“Hmmm,” Suki hums. “Aren’t you friends?”

“Oh, no,” Zuko mutters, and presses his face into the dirt. 

He’s never had friends. He actually. Doesn’t _know._ They could be. 

“Hey, Sparky, you put the fire out,” Toph complains, and rolls him over with a piece of earth. “Katara needs that to cook.”

“I’m a human tinderbox,” Zuko complains back. He’s been rolled on top of Sokka’s back. It’s uncomfortable. Sokka sounds like he’s _very_ uncomfortable, though, so Zuko stays. Suki flops on top of him. Zuko and Sokka let out simultaneous grunts of pain.

“Now you owe me twice,” Suki muses. Her elbow digs into Zuko’s stomach as she gets comfortable, and he lets out a wheeze. “Hm. Hair brushing duty, I think.”

“Shhhhh,” Zuko tries to say something, but an elbow dig destroys the word. 

“Hey, human tinderbox,” Toph says. “Tinder!”

Zuko rolls his eyes to the sky. He can’t really breathe. He’s immensely uncomfortable. His stomach hurts and a rock is digging into his calf in a way that’s going to cause a muscle knot. 

He smiles as he reaches a hand in the direction of the fire, and shoots blindly. 

“WATCH IT!” Aang yelps.

Zuko smiles wider. Underneath him, Sokka turns his head to the side.

“You’re both horrible,” he says.

“Yyyyyuh,” Zuko agrees.

“I’m the _best,_ ” Suki says. “Right, Zuko?”

Zuko stares pleadingly at the sky, face turning red from lack of oxygen. “Yyyyyuh.”

“I’m dying,” Sokka says, muffled.

“TINDERBOX!” Toph yells. “KATARA’S ALMOST HERE AND I’M HUNGRY!”


End file.
